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SPECIMENS 


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ENGLISH  PROSE-WRITERS. 


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SPECIMENS 

OF 

ENGLISH    PROSE  -  writer;^ 

<>  FROM    THE   EARLIEST   TIMES    TO    THE     CLOSE    OP 

THE   SEVENTEENTH    CENTURY^ 

WITH 

SKBTCHES   BIOGRAPHICAL  AND   LITERARY ^ 

f 

INCLUDIWO 

AN  ACCOUNT  OF  BOOKS, 
AS  WELL  AS  OF  THEIR  AUTHORS  : 

WITH 

OCCASIONAL  CRITIQISMS,    *c. 


BY  GEORGE  BURNETT, 

Late  of  BaUol  CotUgCy  Oxford, 


deconti    tuition. 

THREE    VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


\       •    i       !     '    \  i 


LONDON:  . 

PRINTED  FOR  JOHN  BUMPUS,   NEAR  THE  GATE, 

ST.   JOHN'S    SQUARE, 
19f  HambUn  and  Seyfdng^  Qarlick  Hill,  Thamta-strett, 

1813. 


•/- 


No,  ]l 


'cf. 


t         . 


PREFACE. 


The  idea  of  this  compilation  was  suggested 
by  Mr.  Ellis's  "Specimens  of  Early  English 
Poets;"  of  which  work  it  may  be  considered 
in  some  sort  as  forming  the  counterpart.  My 
first  intention  was,  to  exhibit  simply  a  chro^ 
nological  series  of  selections,  as  specimens  of 
the  progress  of  English  prose  style,  without 
any  other  comment  or  observation  than  short 
biographical  notices  of  the  several  authors, 
like  those  in  the  two  last  volumes  of  Mr.  Ellis. 
But  I  soon  reflected,  that  a  bare  list  of  un- 
connected, often  of  incQioplete  passages,  \Kwl4 


VI  PREFACE. 

probably  afford,  but  a  meagre  entertainment 
to  the  general  reader ;  and  that  a  useful  prin- 
ciple  of  connection  may  be  communicated 
by  the  interspersion  of  such  remarks  and  his- 
torical matter,  as  should  tend  to  elucidate 
the  progress  of  our  national  literature,  as  well 
as  language.  Conceiving,  too,  that  a  work 
of  this  nature  is  likely  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  young  and  uninformed  readers,  I  have 
thought  it  of  consequence  to  mark  distinctly 
the  great  literary  aeras,  with  a  view  less  to 
give  information,  than  to  stimulate  enquiry. 
For  various  literary  sketches  and  remarks  (par- 
ticularly, however,  in  the  first  volume,)  I  have 
been  indebted  to  Warton's  History  of  Etig- 
lish  Poetry;  in  a  slight  degree  also  to  Mr. 
Godwin's  Life  of  Chaucer.  My  general  source 
for  the  lives  has  been  the  Biographia  Britanica. 
Other  sources  are  referred  to,  where  it  qouldbe 
of  any  utility.  It  were  idle  to  make  a  display 
of  authorities  in  a  work  which  has  no  preten- 
nions  to  originality  even  of  compilement.    In? 


deed,  I  consider  myself  as  havirig  dbiie  little 
more,  than  collected  into  a  convenient  form  and 
*  arrangement,  3ome  information  (I  hope'eilter- 
taining  and  usefi^l)  before  incon^modiously  dis- 
persed either  in  scarce  or  cumbrous  volumes. 

From  the  period'  of  lord  fiacon,  both  the 
language  and  people's  hiibits  of  thought,  be- 
come settled  in  a  regular  order  of  progression; 
and  my  observations  of  every  kind  are  less 
frequent,  because  kss  necessary.  A  few  iii- 
,  troductory,  remarks  only  to  the  several  reigns 
have  sufficed,  with  the  customary  exten'sion 
of  the  biographies,  where  the  subjects  seemed 
to  require  it;  in  general,  the  lives  consist 
merely  of  a  few  dates< 

It  appeared  to  me  also,  that  it. would  add 
greatly  to  the  usefulness,  and  particularly  to 
the  convenience  of  the  Work^  as  a  book  of  oc- 
casional reference,  if  I  inserted  lists  of  the 
different  production^  of  the  several  authors. 
This  has,  therefore,  been  commonly  done, 
with  a  brief  account  of  principal  works.     Such 


V  •  •• 


«•  ■ 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

lists  are  not  without  their  use^  in  the  view 
simply  of  indicating  the  subjects  which  have 
interested    the  curiosity^    and   exercised  the 
.  talents  of  different  ages. 

Moreover)  the  work  comprises  an  account 
of^  and  extracts  from^  most  of  the  ancient 
chroniclers  and  historians  who  have  written 
in  English. 

The  principles  by  which  I  have  generally 
been  influenced  in  my  choice  of  extracts  h^vt 
been^  to  select  passages  curious  or  remarkable, 
as  relating  directly  to  the  subject  of  language ; 
as  possessing  intrinsic  value  as  examples  of 
style ;  as  characteristic  of  the  author;  or  as 
distinctive  of  the  manners  and  sentiments  of 
the  age.    In  writers  of  continuous  reasoning, 

which  abound  from  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  my 

» 

aim  has  commonly  been  to  present  as  clear  a 
view  of  the  general  principles  of  the  author, 
as  my  limits  would  adinit,  and  as  could  be 
done  in  the  words  of  the  author  himself  ;  wnd 
which  has  been  attempted,  not  simply  by  the 


PREFACE.  IM 

selection  of  those  parts  where  they  are  dtt» 

» 

tmddy  stated,  but  by  frequently  coajoifking 
passages,  distant  in  place,  though  connected 
in  sense.  The  extracts,  therefore,  togedier 
with  the  interspersed  remarks,  and  the  occa- 
sional sketches  of  literary  history,  will  obn- 
ously  contribute  to  elucidate  the  progiest 
of  manners,  of  opinion,  and  of  general  re&ne* 
ment. 

I  need  scarcely  suggest  the  peculiar  advaii^ 
taged  of  thus  exhibiting  a  view  of  writers  ift 
chronological  <>rder.  It  assists  the  memory^ 
by  favouring  the  most  natural  and  appropriate 
associations  ;  the  celebrated  cotemporaries  aie 
represented,  as  they  ought,  in  groups :  and  i( 
the  questions  arise.  Who  were  the  literary 
worthies  that  adorned  any  given  reign.?  and 
What  were  their  respective  claims  to  distinc- 
tion ? — we  have  only  to  turn  to  that  reign  m 
the  present  work,  to  receive  the  required  ior 
formation.  Even  the  incidental  mention  in* 
the  biographies  pf  facts  in  civil  history,  friU 


jt  PREFACE. 

tend  to  awaken  the  curiosity  to  become  better 
acquainted  with    the   transactions   of  which 
they   are  links;  and   thus  the  reader  will  be 
insensibly  led  to   the  civil,  as  well  as  the  lite- 
*Tary  history  of  the  period. 
-    Still,  however,  I  do  not  present  these  vo-- 
lumes  as  a  work  of  much  research.     I  have 
examined  scarcely  at  all  into  MS.  stores;  and 
have  been  more  solicitous  to  give  an  account 
of  authors  who  possess  a    permanent  value, 
than  of  productions  valuable  only  as  curious 
relics  of  past  literary  ages.     I  considered  also, 
that  within  the  limits  I  thought  proper  to  assign 
myself,  the  number  of  names  might  have  been 
too  great, as  well  as  too  little:  for,  as  prose  has 
not  the  advantage  of  poetry,  (in  which.a  sonnet 
is  as  complete  as  an  epic  poem)  the  extracts  in 
the  former  case  could  rarely,  from  their  brevity, 
have  possessed    a   distinct  and    independent 
Talue.     It  seemed  therefote  more  ratiotiiil  to 
allot  to  great  and  valuable  authors  a  tolerable 
space,  that  the    specimens    exhibited    from 


them  itiight  give  the  reader  no-  incompetent 
idea  of  their  respective  excellencies,  or  pecu- 
liarities. . 

To  prevent  an}^  repellent  effect  to  the  ge- 
neral  reader,  it  was  thought  advisable  to 
adopt  the  modern  orthography.  The  ancient 
spelling,  indeed,  was  quite  unsettled,  and  in 
some  degree  arbitrary ;  the  same  author  often 
writing  the  same  word  in  two  or  three  differ- 
ent ways.  To  many  readers,  this  might  have 
been  a  source  of  obscurity.  It  was  hence, 
perhaps,  of  less  consequence  to  retain  it ;  bi^t 
it  once  occurred  to  me  to  print  a  few  sentences, 
or  a  short  passage,  in  each  author,  in  the  an- 
cient manner,  and  the  series  of  specimens 
might  then  have  been  considered  as  histori- 
cally correct ;  at  least  sufficiently  so  for  every 
useful  purpose.  This  may  hereafter  be  done, 
should  the  work  be  so  fortunate  as  to  be  sanc- 
tioned by  the  public  approbation.    / 

Some  of  the  extracts  towards  the  latter  end 
of  the  first  volume  may  possibly  appear  to 


coBtaia  «s  many,  and  even  moie  obsolete 
words^  than  several  of  those  of  aa  earlier  date. 
This  has  arisen^  I  apprehend^  from  the  early 
multiplication  of  copies  of  hooks ;  and  from 
the  alterations  made  by  successive 'transcribers 
before  the  invention  of  printing ;  and  by  dif- 
ferent editors  since. 

It  might  have  given  an  air  of  greater  com- 
pleteness to  this  work^  had  it  been  preceded 
by  an  essay  on  the  early  formation  of  our  lan- 
guage from  the  Anglo  Saxon  and  Norman 
French  y  but  having  been  anticipated  in  the 
plan  by  Mr.  Ellis^  it  could  have  been  regarded 
only  as  superfluous  repetition  of  what  he  and 
his  predecessors  Johnson  and  Tyrrwhit  had 
done  before^  For  the  same  reason  also>  I  have 
been  more  sparing  of  observations  strictly 
philological;  than  otherwise  I  might  have 
been.  The  matter  interspersed  is,  for  the 
most  part,  historical  or  bibliological ;  calcu- 
lated to  give  some  little  information  to  those 
who  have  not  made  our  early  literature  the 


FREFAEC.  Tin 

subject  of  their  particular  study.  To  hare 
accumulated  critical  remarks  would  have  been 
an  officious  obtrusion  upon  the  judgment  of 
the  reader. 

In  tumbling  over  such  a  multitude  of  books,  ^  .^ 

•  •  •     , 

and  upon  subjects  almost  equally  multitudi*^ 
nous^  I  can  by  no  means  presume  to  hope, 
that  I  have  always  lighted  upon  passages,  the 
very  best  that  might  have  been  chosen.  In 
respect  of  the  principal  authors,  I  trust,  there 
will  be  little  room  for  complaint;  yet  there 
will  still  remain  many  flowers  of  beauty 
and  fragrance,  which  would  have  embellished 
the  garland  here  presented,  and  on  which  my 
discursive  eye  has  not  fallen.  Should  the 
opportunity  be  allowed  me  I  should  grate- 
fully cull  any  which  might  be  pointed  out 
to  me  by  some  more  attentive  or  tasteful 
wanderer  in  the  fields  of  literature.  Besides, 
it  can  scarcely  be  deemed  unreasonable  for  me 
to  alledge,  that  the  toil  of  transcription  (though 
}^  this  respect '}  have  had  much  assistance)  has 


xiT  PREFACE. 

been  yet  considerable ;  not  to  mention  the  nn- 
airoidable  waste  of  labour,  arising  from  altera- 
tion of  taste  in  selection,  and  from  the  difficulty 
of  proportioning  the  extracts.  Had  I  thorough* 
ly  foreseen  the  tediousness  occasioned  by  these 
causes,  I  should  almost  have  been  deterred 
from  the  undertaking. 

la  a  work  of  this  kind,  fame  is  entirely  out  of 
tlie  question  ^  if  the  public,  therefore,  should 
think  proper  to  call  for  a  second  edition,  I 
should  very  readily  adopt  any  suggestion, 
either  from  friend  or  stranger,  which  I  thought  ^ 
could  add  either  to  its  utility  or  entertainment, 


CONTENTS 


OF  VOL.  I. 


Page 

Sir  John  Mande-oilk             -             -         -  -  5 

Trevisa — The  Poly chronicon.         -              -  -  25 

Wicliffe               -             -              -             -  -  54 

Chaucer  -  *    .         "         "  '87 

Reynold  Pecock  (Bishop  of  Chichester)         -  -  113 

Sir  John  Fortescue            -             -             -  -  130 

Fenns  Letters     -             -         -             -  -  142 

Caxton              -             -             -               -  -  I60 

The  Chronicles  of  England        -             -  -  173 

The  Description  of  England     -             -  -  204 

The  Fruit  of  Times          -                  -         '  -  209 

The  Golden  Legend                 -             -  -  215 
The  Book  qf  the  Order  of  Chivalry  or  Knight' 

hood                -                 -              -  -  229 

Morte  Arthur                 -                   -  -  247 

The  Book  of  the  Feats  of  Arms  and  of  Chivalry  -  263 

ROMAKCE     -          -         -         -         -         -  -  277 

Fabian                  -             -                 -  -  294 

Revival  of  Letters          -            .  -  306 

Froissart                 -                  -         '    -  »  321 

Fischer  [Bishop  of  Rochester)         -  -  331 

Sir  Thomas  More                 -                 -  -  357 

Leland^      \     -                  -                  -  -  396 

Harding      ^  -                  -                  -.  -  408 

Hali               ..                 -                 -  -  414 
Tyndale,  Coverdale,  Rogers — Translations  of  the 

Bible             -----  i424 

Juatimer  (Bishop  of  Worcester)                 -  -  450 


■^ 


J 


SPECIMENS,  4'C. 


ewmrti  III. 


VOL.  I.  B 

■•.■♦-' 


SPECIMENS,    4'c. 


EDWARD  III. 


MJNDEFILLE. 

The  first  prose  writer  in  the  English  language, 
which  occurs  in  our  literacy  annals,  is  the  an-^ 
cient  and  renowned  traveller,  sir  John  Mande* 
ville.  He  was  born  at  St.  Albans  about  the 
beginning  of  1300.  He  received  a  liberal  edu- 
cation, and  applied  himself  to  the  study  of 
medicine,  which  he  probably  practised  for 
9ome  time.  But  being  urged  by  an  uncon* 
querable  curiosity  to  see  foreign  countries,  he 
departed  from  England  in  133$,  and  con  tin* 
ued  abroad  for  four  and  tkirty  years ;  during 
which  time  his   person  and  appearance  hid 


4  MANDEVILLE. 

SO  changtid,  that,  on  his  return,  his  friends,  who 
had  supposed  him  dead,  did  not  know  himr. 
In  the  course  of  his  travels,  he  acquired  the 
knowledge  of  almost  all  languages,  and  visited 
all  the  chief  countries « of  the  known  earth ; 
among  which  may  be  enumerated  Greece, 
Dalmatia,  Armenia  the  greater  and  less,  Egypt, 
Arabia,  Chaldaia,  Syria,  Media,  Mesopotamia, 
Persia,  Scythia,  Cathay  or  China,  &c.  The 
habit  of  roving,  however,  was  still  too  power- 
ful to  suffer  him  to  remain  quietly  at  home. 
He  quitted  his  own  country  a  second  time,  and 
finally  died  at  Liege  in  the  Low  Countries,  in 
1372.  ' 

He  wrote  an  ^^  Itinerary,"  or  an  account  of 
his  travels,  in  English,  French,  and  Latin. 
We  learn  from  Vossius,  that  it  existed  also 
in  Italian,  Belgic,  and  German.  The  inscrip- 
tion, too,  on  his  monument  at  Liege,  is  pre- 
served by  the  same  author,  and  is  as  follows  : 
Hie  jacet  vir  nobilisy  dominus  Johannes  de 
MandevllLey  alias  dictus  ad  Barbain,  dominu& 
de  Campoli,  natus  in  Anglia,  medicince  professor,  , 
devotissimus  orator,  et  bonorum  suorum  largis- 
simus  paxiperibus  erogator,  qui,  toto  quasi  orbe 
histrato,  Leodii  vitce  succ  diem  clausit,  A.  D.  1 372, 
Nov,  17. 


His  travels  abound 4n  miracles  a^d  wonder-^ 
ful  stories ;  atid  accordingly,  the  title  of  one 
of  the  Latin  manuscripts  is  Itiuerarium  Johan- 
nis  Maundevillej  de  Mirabilibus  Mundi,  »  Am- 
bitious  of  saying  whatever  had  been,  as  well  as 
whatever  could  be  said  of  the  places' h«  visited, 
he  has  taken  monsters  fr(!>m  Pliny,  miracles 
from  legends,    and  marvellous    stories  from 
rpmances.     In  this,  indeed,  he  only  furnishes 
an  instance  of  the  taste  of  the  age  in  which 
he  lived ;  and   imitates   the  example   of  the 
early  historians  of  all  nations,  and  among  his 
own.  countrymen,    his    predecessors^  Gildas, ' 
Nennius,  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  and   even 
the    venerable   Bede,    in    blending    fabulous 
narratives  with  the  relations  of  real  history. 
It  should  be  observed,  however,  that  his  book 
is  supposed  to  have  been  interpolated  by  the 
monks  ;  a  supposition  that  will  appear  highly 
probable   from  the  following  extracts.     Still, 
when  he  relates  stories  of  an  improbable  na- 
ture,   he   commonly    prefaces    them    with — 
•*  They  say,"  or  ^^  men  say — but  I  have  not 
seen  it ;"  though  he  is  to  blame  in  not  citing 
his  authorities,  when  he  adopts  the  accountsr 
of  others.     He  acknowjeges  only,  in  general 
terms,  (p.  381 — 2^  edit*  1725)   that  his  book 


O  MANBEVILLK* 

i¥a$  made  partly  from  hearsay^  aa4  partly  from^ 
his  own  observation.  It  is  entitled^  ^'  TOic 
Voyage  and  Travels  of  sir  John  Mandeville, 
knight>  which  treateth  of  the  way  to  Hierusa^ 
leme,  and  of  the  marvels  of  Ind,  with  other 
Islands  and  Countries." 

As  extracts  from  this  ancient  traveller  will 
be  read  more  for  amusement  than  information, 
my  object  has  been  to  select  the  marvellous 
rather  than  the  true. 

The  following  introductory  passage,  from 
his  prologue,  metitions  generally  the  countries 
lie  had  visited ;  and  give^  the  reader  an  idea  of 
Avhat  he  is  to  expect  from  the  perusal  of  his 
work : 

'  And  for  as  much  as  it  is  lofig  time  passed,  that 
there  was  no  general  passage  ne^  voyage  over  the 
lea ;  and  many  men  desire  to  hear  speak  of  the 
Holy  Land,  and  han  *  thereof  great  solace  and  com^ 
fort ;  I  John  Mandeville,  knight,  albeit  I  be  not 
worthy,  that  was  born  in  England,  in  the  town  of 
St.  Albans,  passed  the  sea,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  1322,  in  the  day  of  St.  Michael ;  and 
hitherto  have  been  long  time  over  the  sea,  and  have 
seen  and  gone  through  many  divers  lands,  and  many 

» ttor.  *  have; 


MANDEVILLBk  7 

provinces  «ttd  kingdoms  and  isles,  and  have  passed 
through  Tatary,  Persia,  Ermonye^  the  Little  and 
the  Great ;  through  Lybia,  Chaldea,  and  a  great  part 
of  Ethiopia;  through  Amazonia,  Ind  the  Less  and  the 
More,  a  great  part ;  and  throughout  many  other  isles 
that  ben*  about  Ind ;  where  dwell  many  divers  folks, 
and  of  divers  manners  and  laws,  and  of  divers  shapes 
of  men.  Of  which  lands  and  isles  I  shall  speak  more 
plainly  hereafter.  And  I  shall  devise  you  some  part 
of  things  that  there  ben  when  time  shall  6«i',  after  it 
may  best  come  to  my  mind ;  and  specially  for  them, 
that  will  and  are  in  purpose  for  to  visit  the  holy  city 
of  Jerusalem,  and  the  holy  places  that  are  thereabout. 
And  I  shall  tell  the  way  that  they  should  hold  thither : 
for  I  have  oftentimes   passed  and  ridden  the  way, 

with  good  company  of  many  lords,  God  be  thanked. 

*  "I 

And  ye  should  understand  that  1  have  put  this  book 
out  of  Latin  into  French,  and  translated  it  again  out 
of  French  into  English,  that  every  man  of  my  nation 
may  understand  it.  But  lords  and  knights  and  other 
noble  and  worthy  men,  that  conne*  Latin  but  little, 
and  han  ben*  beyond  the  sea,  know  and  understand, 
if  I  err  in  devising,  for  forgetting,v  or  else ;  that 
they  may  redress  it  and  amend  it.  For  things  passed 
out  of  long  ''time  from  a  man's  mind,  or  from  his 
sight,  turn  ohe  into  forgetting :  because  that  mind 

-  * 

>  Armenia.    ^  are.    i  be.     «  know*    '  bave  been. 


8;  MANDEVILLE. 

df  man  nc*  ihdy  not  bai*  comprehended  we*  withheld,- 
for  the  frailty  of  hiankind. 


Of  Hijjpocras's  davghter  transformed  from  a  woman  to 

a  dragon. 

Some  men  gay  that  in  the  isle  of  Lango*  is  yet  the 
daughter  of  Hippocras,in  form  and  likeness  of  a  great 
dragon,  that  is  an  hundred  fathoms  of  length,  as  men 
say  ;  for  I  have  not  seen  her  And  they  of  the  isles 
call  her  the  Lady  of  the  Land.  And  she  lieth  in  an 
old  castle,  in  a  cave,  and  sheweth  twice  or  thrice  in 
the  year,  and  she  doth  none  harm  to  no  man,  but  if*, 
men  do  her  harm.  And  she  was  thus  changed  and 
transformed,  fron^  a  fair  damsel  into  likeness  of  a 
dragon,  by  a  goddess  that  was  clept  Deamf.  And 
men  say,  that  she  shall  so  endure  in  the  form  of  a 
dragon,  unto  the  time  that-  a  knight  come,  that  is  so 
hardy,  that  dare  come  to  her  and  kiss  her  on  the 
mouth :  and  then  shall  she  turn  again  to  her  own 
kind,  and  be  a  woman  again ;  but  after  that  she  shall 
not  live  long.  And  it  is  not  long  sithen^  that  a  knight 
of  the  Rhodes,  that  was  hardy  and  doughty  in  arms, 
said  that  he  would  kiss  her.     And  when  he  was  upon 

»  neither.    »  be.    s  nor.    4  An  island  not  far  from  Crete. 
*  unless.  «  called  Dfana.  7  since. 


.MAJ<PBVILLB.  {9 

l^s  courser,  aod  ^ent  tp  the  castle,  fuid  ^t^ed  int^ 

.th^  cave,  the  dr^gpn  lift  up  her  head  agiain&t  hix^. 

And  ;W)ieQ,  the  knight  saw  her:  in  the<t  foriiL  sa  hideous 

and  SO'  horrible,  her  ^w  away.     And  the  dra^oji  bare 

jthe,  knight  upon  a  rock,  maugre  his  hedt^y  and  from 

this  rock  she  cast  h^n^  into  the  sea;  and  so  was,  lost 

both  horse  and  man.     And  also  a  young  man,  that 

wist  not  of  'the  dragon,  went  out  of  a  ship^  and  went 

through  the  isle,  till,  that  he  came  to  the  castle  and 

came  into  the  cave ;  and  went  so  long, .  till  that  he 

found  a  chamber,  and  there  he  saw  a  damsel,  that 

kembed^  her  head,  and  looked  in  a  mirror ;  and  she 

had  much  treasure  about  her ;  and  he  trowed^  that  she 

had  been  a  common  woman,  that  dwelled  there  to 

receive  naen  to  folly.     And  he  abode  till  the  damsel 

saw  the  shadow  of  him  in   the  mirror.     And  she 

turned    her  toward  him,    and  asked  him  what  he 

would  ?  And  he  said  he  would  be  her  lemman,  or 

paramour.     And  she  asked  him,  if  that  he  were  a 

knight.     And  he  said,   Nay.     And  then  she  said, 

that  he  might  not  be  her  lemman ;  but  she  bad  him 

go  again  unto  his  fellows,  and  make  him  a  knight, 

and  come  again  upon  the  morrow,  and  she  should 

come  out  of  the  tave  before  him ;  and  then  come 

and  kiss  her  on  the  inoiith  and  have  no  dread :  for  I 

shall  do  thee   no  manner    harm,   albeit  that  thou 

1  in  spite  of  his  heed/  i.  e.  care  or  caution. 
•  combed.  3  supposed. 


10  KANSSVILLB. 

see  me  ill  likeoese  of  a  dragon.  For  though  thou  see 
fne  hideous  and  horrible  to  look  on,  J  do  thee  t6  wy^ 
iene\  that  it  is  made  be  enchantment :  for  without 
doubt,  I  am  none  other  than  thou  seest  now,  a 
woman ;  and  therefore  dread  thee  nought.  And  if 
thou  kiss  me  thou  shalt  have  all  this  treasure,  and 
be  my  lord,  and  lord  also  of  all  that  isle.  And  he 
4eparted  from  her  and  went  to  his  fallows  to^  the 
4ihip,  and  let  make  him  knight,  and  came  again  upon 
the  mori^ow,  for  to  kiss  this  damsel.  And  when  he 
saw  her  come  out  of  the  cave,  in  form  of  a  dragon, 
80  hideous  and  so  horrible,  he  had  so  great  dread, 
that  he  f!ew  again  to  the  ship,  and  she  followed  him. 
And  wh^n  she  saw  that  he  turned  not  again,  she 
began  to~  ^cry  as  a  thing  that  had  much  sorrow : 
and  then  she  turned  again  into  her  cave ;  and  anon 
the  knight  died.  And  ikhen  hitherwards,  might  no 
knight  see  her,  but  that  he  died  anon.  But  when  a 
knight  cometh,  that  is  so  hardy  to  kiss  her,  he  shall 
not  die ;  but  he  shall  turn  the  damsel  into  her  right 
form  and  kindly  shape,  and  he  shall  be  lord  of  all  the 
countries  and  isles  above-sakl. 


Of  the  devil's  head  in  the  Valley  Perilous,, 

Beside  that  isle  of  Mistorak,  upon  the  left  side, 
nigh  to  "fte  river  Phison,    is  a  marvellous  thing. 

'  I  give  thee  to  undei>tan4 


4 

There  is  a  Tale  between  the  monntBins,  that  dureth 
sigh  a  fqor  mile.    And  some  ckpen^  it  the  Vale  En* 
chanted,  some  clepm  it  the  Vale  of  Devils,    and 
some  clepen  it  the  VcJe  Perilous ;  in  that  vale  hearen  * 
men  oftenthne  great  tempests  and    thunders,    and 
great  murmurs  and  noises,  all  day  and  nights ;  and 
great  noise  as  it  were  sound  of  tabors  and  of  tutkera* 
and  trumps,   Bfi  though  it  were   of  a  great  feast. 
This  vale  is  all  full  of  devils,  and  hath  been  always. 
And  men  say  there,  that  it  is  one  of  the  entries 
of  hell,     in  that  vale  is  plenty  of  gold  and  silver ; 
wherefore  many  misbelieving  men,  and  many  chris- 
tian men  also,  g<m*  in  often  time,  for  to  have  of 
the  treasure  that  there  jfi,  but  few  comen  again ;  and 
namely,  of  the  misbelieving  men,  ne  of  the  christian 
men   noutker  * :    for    they   bm    anon    strangled    of 
devils.     And  in  mid  place  of  that  vale,  under  a  rock, 
is  an  head  of  the  visage  of  a  devil  bo^ly,  full  hor* 
rible^and  dreadful  to  see ;  and  it  sheweth  not  but  the 
head,  to  the  shoulders.     But  there  is  no  man  in  the 
world  so  hardy,  christian  man  ne   other,  bat  that 
he  would  ben  adrad^  for   to  behold  it;   and  that  it 
would  seemen  him  to  die  for  dread ;  so  is  it  hideous 
for  to   behold.       For  he   beholdeth  every  man  s& 

"  call.  •  hear. 

3  Nakeres:— -Nacara,  (Du  Cange,)  a  kind  of  biazen  dnim  used 
in  the  cavalry. 

♦  fo.  s  neither.  •  afraid. 


0 


1£  MANDEVILLE. 

sharply  with  dreadful  eyer^  that  hen  evermore  moving; 
aipvd  sparkling  as  fire,  and  changeth  and  steereth  so 
often  in  divers  manner,  with  so  horrible  countenance, 
that  no  man  4are  not  nighefi^  towards  hini.  .  Andyro* 
him  cometh  smoke  and  stink,  and  fire,  and  so  much 
q,bommation,  that  unethe^  no  man  may  there  endure. 
But  the  good  christian  men,  that  ben  stable  in  the 
faith,  entren  well  withouten  peril  :  for  they  will 
first  shriven  htm^y  and  marken  him  with  the  token  of 
the  Holy  Cross ;  so  that  the  fiends  ne  han  no*  power 
over  hem.  But  albeit  that  they  hen  withouten  peril, 
zit  nathales'^  ne  hen  they  not  withouten  dread,  when 
that  they  seen  the  devils  visibly  and  bodily  all  about 
hem^  that  maken  full  many  divers  assauU^  and  me- 
naces in  air  and  in  earth,  and  agasten^  hem  with 
strokes  of  thunder-blasts  and  of  tempests.  And 
the  most  dread  is,  that  God  will  taken  vengeance 
then,  of  that  men  han^  misdoiie  agaw}^  his  will.  And 
ye  should,  understand,  that  when  my  fellows  amd  I 
weren  in  that  vale,  we  weren  in  great  thought  whe- 
ther that  wc  dursten  putten  our  bodies  in  aventure, 
to  gon  in  or  now,  in  the  protection  of  God.  And 
some  of  our  fellows  accordeden^'^  to  enter,  and-  some 
noght,^     So  there  were  with  us   two  worthy  men, 

>  eyes.        *  approach.         3  from. 

♦  scarcely.  5  confess  themselves.  ^  have  no. 

7  yet  nevertheless.     ®  fissaults.      9  terrify.      ***  have. 

>i  against.  *^  agreed*.  *3  not. 


MANDKVILLE.  IS 

friars  minoits  that  were  of  Lombardy,  that  said,  that  if 
any  man  would  enter,  they  would  go  in  with  us. 
And  when  they  had  said  so,  upon  the  gracious  trust  of 
God  and  of  heiv}y  we  let  sing  mass ;  ^and  made  every 
man  to  be  shriven  and  kouseld*;  and  then  we  entered 
fourteen  persons;  but  at  our  going  out,  we  were  but 
nine.  And  so  we  xvisten^  never,  whether  that  our 
fellows  were  lost,  or  eile*  turned  again  for  dread ; 
but  we  ne  saw  them  never  after  ;  and  tho^  were  two 
men  of  Greece  and  three  of  Spain;  aud  our  other 
fellows  that  would  not  go  in  with  us,  they  went  by 
another  coast  to  ben  before  us,  and  so  they  were* 
And  thus  we  passed  that  perilous  vale,  aud  found 
therein  gold  and  silver  and  precious  stones  and  rich 
jewels  great  plenty,  both  here  and  there,  as  us 
seemed ;  but  whether  that  it  was,  as  us  seemed,  I 
tvot  nert*;  for  I  touched  none,  because  that  the  devils 
be  so  subtle  to  make  a  thing  to  seem  otherwise  than 
it  is,  for  to  deceive  mankind ;  and  therefore  I  touched 
none;  Und  also  because  that  I  would  not  be  put  out  of 
my  devotion  :  for  I  was  more  devout  then  than  ever 
I  was  before  or  after ;  and  all  for  the  dread  of  fiends, 
that  I  saw  in  divers  figures ;  and  also  fpr  the  great 
multitude  of  dead  bodies  that  I  saw  there  lying  by 

*  themselves. 
^  to  be  confessed,  and  to  have  the  Lord's  Supper  administered 
to  him. 

3  knew.     4  else.     «  they.     «  I  never  knew. 


14  MANDEVILLB. 

the  way,  by  all  the  vale,  as  though  there  had  been  a 
battle  betweeo  two  kings,  and  the  mightiest  of  the 
eoimtiy,  and  that  the  greater  part  had  been  discom- 
fitted  and  slain.  And  I  trcno^  that  uneth^  should 
any  country  have  so  much  people  within  him,  as 
lay  slain  in  thai  vale,  as  us  thought ;  the  which  was 
an  hideous  sight  to  ieeii^.  And  I  marvelled  mnch| 
that  there  were  so  many,  and  the  bodies  all  whole 
witkovien  rotting.  But  I  trowe  that  fiends  made 
them  seem  to  be  so  whole,  withouten  rotting.  But 
that  might  not  be  to  -  my  avys\  that  so  many 
should  have  entered  so  newly,  ne  so  many  newly 
slain,  without  stinking  and  rottipg^  And  many 
of  them  were  in  habit  of  Christian  men;  but  I 
.  trowe  well,  thfiit  it  were  of  such,  that  went  in  for 
cooetysff  of  the  .treasure  that  was  there,  and  had 
overmuch  feebleness  in  faith;  so  that  their  hearts 
ne  might  not  endure  in  the  belief  for  dread.  And 
therefore  were  we  the  more  devout  a  great  deal ;  and 
yet  we  were  cast  down,  and  beaten  down  many  times 
to  the  hard  earth,  by  winds  and  thunders  and  tem- 
pests ;  but  evermore,  God,  of  his  grace,  helped  us. 
And  so  we  passed  that  perilous  vale,  without  peril, 
and  without  incumbrance.  Thanked  be  Almighty 
God. 


■  tappeie.  *  scarcely.  >  see. 

4  advice^  vndeftttnding.  s  covetousncfs. 


MANDETILLB.  1$ 

The  reason  why  The  Great  Khaxi^  emperor  of 
India^  was  known  in  Europe  by  the  name  of 
Prester  John,  MandeviUe  states  to  be  the  fol- 
lowing : 

I  trau)  that  ye  know  well  enow,  and  have  heard 
say,  wherefore  this  emperor  is  ckpt  Prester  John. 
But  nathdes^  for  them  tha(  know  not,  I  shall  say  you 
the  cause.  It  was  sometime  an  emperor  there  that 
was  a  worthy  and  full  noble  prince,  that  had  Chris- 
tian  knights  in  his  company,  as  he  hath  that  is  now.. 
So  it  befel,  that  he  had  great  list  for  to  see  the  ser- 
vice in  the  church,  among  Christian  men.  And 
then  dured  Christendom  beyond  the  sea.  All  Turkey, 
Syria,  Tatary,  Jerusalem,  Palestine,  Arabia,  Halappu, 
imd  all  the  land  of  Egypt.  So  it  befel  that  this  em- 
peror came,  with  a  Christian  knight  with  hini,  into  a 
church  in  Egypt ;  and  it  was  the  Saturday  in  Whit- 
sun  week.  And  the  bishop  made  orders.  And  ht 
beheld  and  listened  the  service  full  teidxifly^.  And  he 
asked  the  Christian  knight,  what  men  of  degree  they 
vhould  be,  that  the  prelate  had,  before  him.  And 
the  knight  answered  and  said,  that  they  should  be 
priests.  'And  then  the  emperor  said,  that  he  would 
no  longer  be  dept  king,  ite  emperor,  but  priest ;  and 
that  he  would  have  the  name  of  the  first  priest  that 

>  ncvtrthtlMi.  «  attentinly. 


16  JUANDBVIXLB. 

went  put' of  the  church ;  and  his  name  was  John. 
And  80  eyennore  sUkeriy  he  is  clept  Prester  John. 


I  shall  close  my  extracts  from  this  author 
with  his  concluding  paragra,ph. 

I  John  Mandeville,  knight  abovesaid,  (although  I 
be  unworthy,)  that  departed  from  our  countries,  and 
,  passed  the  sea,  the  year  of  grace  1322,   that  have 
passed  many  lands,  and  many    isles  and  countries, 
and  searched  many  full  strange  places,  and  have  been 
in  many  fulLgood  honourable  company,  and  at  many 
a,  fair  deed  of  arms,  (albeit  that  I  did  none  myself,  for 
mine  able  insufficience)  now  I  am  come  tome  7naugremy- 
self,  to  rest:  for  gouts,  arteti/kes^,  that  me  distravghi^ 
they  define  th6  end  of  my  labour,  against  my  will,  God 
knoweth.     And  thus  taking  solace  in  my  wretched 
r^t,  recording  the  time' past,   I  have  fulfilled  these 
things  and  put  theW  written  in  this  book,  as  it  would 
come  into  my  mind,  the  year  of  Grace  1356  in  the 
34th  year  that  I  departed  from  our  countries.    Where- 
fore I  pray  to  all  the  readers  and  hearers  of  this  book, 
if  it  please  them,  that  they  would  prey  to  God  for 
me;  andTt' shall  pray  for  them.     And  all  those  tha^ 

>  aching  of  limbs.  a  distra<jt. 


MANBETILLB.  17 

flay  for  me  e^  pater4U>ster,  with  an  aoe^m^uidy  that  God 
foirgiye^me  my  sins,  I  make  them  partners,  and  grant 
theip  part  of  all  the  good  pUgk-images,  and  of  all  tha 
good  deeds^  that  I  have  done,  if  any  be  to  bis  plea- 
dure.  And  not  only  of  those,  but  of  all  that  ever  I 
shall  do  unto  my  life's  end.  And  I  beseech  Almighty 
God,  froqi  whom  all  goodness  and  grace  cometh, 
that  he  vouchsafe  of  his  excellent  mercy  and  abun- 
dant grew^e,  to  fulfil  their  souls  with  inspiration  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  in  making  defence  of  all  their 
ghostly  enemies  here  in  earth,  to  their  salvation, 
both  of  body  and  soul,  to  worship  and  thanking  of 
Him,  that  is  Three  and  One,  icithouten  beginning  and 
vithovim  tiiding ;  that  is,  withouten  quality,  good,  and 
without  quantity,  great ;  that  in  all  places  is  present, 
and  all  things  containing ;  the  which  that  no  good- 
ness may  amend  ne  none  evil  impair ;  that  in  perfect 
trinity  liveth  and  reigneth  God,  be  all  worlds  and  bt 
all  times.     Amen,  amen,  amen. 


Sir  John  Mandeville  was  not  the  first  Eu- 
ropean traveller  who  visited  the  oriental  re- 
gions. The  Arabians  who  immigrated  into 
Europe,  and  finally  settled  in  Spain  about  the 
ninth  century,  by  their  exaggerated  descrip- 
tions of  the  wonders  to  be  seen  in  the  east, 
were  the  first  to  excite  the  curiosity  of  Eu- 

VOL.  I.  c 


18  JMANDEVIXLE^. 

topeans  respecting  those  distant  countries^ 
As  the  eastern  nations  at  that  early  period,  in 
addition  to  their  abounding  in  natural  curiosi- 
ties, really  and  greatly  surpassed  those  of 
Europe  in  the  arts  and  luxuries  of  life,  and  in 
general  civilization,  the  crusaders,  a  few  cen- 
turies after,  on  their  ireturn  from  the  Holy 
Land,  served  to  confirnj,  and  even  to  mag- 
nify the  accounts  of  the  Arabians.  These 
accounts,  which  were  partly  true  and  partly 
fabulous,  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  monks> 
were  mixed  up  with  yarious  legendary  addi- 
tions of  their  own,  into  treatises,  under  the 
title  of  Mirabilia  Mundi ;  which  contributing 
to  awaken  still  more  the  desire  to  visit  those 
wonderful  countries,  several  professed  tra- 
vellers into  the  east  during  the  twelfth,  thir- 
teenth, and  fourteenth  centuries,  surprised  the 
western  world  with  their  marvellous  narratives. 
At  the  court  of  the  Great  Khan,  persons  of  all 
nations  and  of  all  religions,  if  at  all  distin- 
guished for  talents,  were  hospitably  received> 
and  often  preferred.^ 

The  first  European  traveller  into  the  cast 
was  Benjamin,  a  Jew  of  Tudela  in  Navarre, 
who  ended  his  travels  in  1 173.  Having  reach- 
ed Constjintinople,  he  proceeded  to  Alexandria 


MANDEVILLEi.  19 

in  ^gypt,  whence  he  penetrated  through 
Persia  to  the  frontiers  of  Tzin,  now  China, 
He  bears  testimony  to  the  immense  wealth  of 
Constantinople  ;  and  says  that  its  port  swarm- 
ed with  ships  from  all  countries.  He  ex- 
aggerates, however,  in  speaking  of  the  pro- 
digious number  of  Jews  in  that  city;  and  in 
other  respects,  is  full  of  marvellous  and  roman- 
tic stories. 

About  thcvyear  1^45,  William  de  Rubruquis 
a  monk,  was  sent,  by  the  command  of  St. 
Louis  king  of  France,  into  Persic  Tatary ; 
as  was  also  Carpini,  by  Pope  Innocent  IV. 
Their  books  abound  with  improbabilities. 
About  1260,  Marco  Polo,  a  Venetian  noble- 
man, travelled  into  Syria  and  Persia,  and  to 
the  country  uniformly  called  in  the  dark  ages 
Cathay,  which  proves  to  be  the  northern  part 
of  China.  His  book,  entitled  De  Regionibus 
Orietitis,  mentions  the  immense  and  opulent 
city  of  Cambalu,  undoubtedly  Pekin.  Hak- 
luyt,  the  collector  of  voyages,  cites  a  friar 
named  Oderick,  who  travelled  to  Cambalu  in 
Cathay,  and  whose  description  of  that  city 
corresponds  exactly  with  that  of  Pekin. 

From  the  accounts  of  these  early  travellers 
into  the  east,    Roger   Bacon,    about    1280, 

c  2 


0 


20  JtfANDEVILLB. 

formed  his  geography  of  that  part  of  the  globe> 
as  is  evident  from  what  he  relates  of  the  Ta- 
tars. See  Purchas.  Pilgrim.  3.  52.  Bacon  Op. 
Maj.  2«8.  23.5. 

There  was,  moreover,  a  history  of  the  Ta- 
tars popular  in  Europe  about  the  year  1310. 
It  was  either  written  or  dictaited  by  Aiton,  a 
king  of  Armenia,  who  after  traversing  the 
most  remarkable  countries  of  the  east,  turned 
monk  at  Cyprus.  His  travels,  partly  from  the 
rank  of  the  author,  and  partly  from  the  won- 
derful acjyentures  they  contain,  were  in  thei^ 
day  in  high  estimation. 

L^and  says  that  Mandeville,  on  his  return, 
from  his  travels,  gave  to  the  shrine  of  St. 
Thomas  a  Becket,  in  the  cathedral  of  Canter- 
buiy,  a  glass  globe  enclowng  an  apple,  which 
he  probably  brought  from  the  east.  This 
curiosity  was  seen  by  Leland;  and  he  assert! 
that  the  apple  remaihed  fresh  and  undecayed* 
Mandeville  also  gave  to  the  high  altar  of  St. 
Alban*s  abbey  church,  a  sort  of  patera,  brought 
from  Egypt,  and  which,  not  many  years  siace^ 
Was  in  the  hands  of  an  antiquary  in  London. 

Such  was  the  taste  for  marvellous  his- 
tories in  those  times  'of  wonderment  and 
i^orance^  ihat  Gyraldus  Cambr«nsis,  «rb» 


XCANDBYILLI.  fi 

wrote  about  the  year  1200,  in  his  book  on 
Ireland,  thought  proper,  in  obedience  to  the 
reigning  fashion,  to  entitle  it  De  Mirabilibm 
Hiberni6B.  There  is  also  a  MS.  in  the  Bodleian 
library,  with  the  title  of  De  'MirabUibus  Ang- 
tuR.  And  at  length  appeared  a  compilation 
with  the  more  comprehensive  title  of  Mirabilia 
HibernuB,  Anglia,  et  Orientis ;  which  ii 
among  the  MSS.  in  the  Royal  library.  '  The 
Polyhistor  of  Solinus,  in  many  MSS.  has 
likewise  the  title  of  De  MirabUibus  Mundi; 
and  we  have  even  De  MirabUibus  Veteris  et 
Novi  Testamenti, 

It  appears,  that  the  passion  foy  visiting  the 
Holy  Land  did  not  cease  among  us^  till  late  in 
the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth.  Warton  men- 
tions one  William  Wey,  Fellow  of  Etoa  Col- 
lege, who  celebrated  Mass,  cum  cantu  organico, 
at  Jerusalem  in  the  year  1472;  and  cites  an 
Itinerary  under  the  title  of  '^  The  Pilgrimage 
of  Sir  Richard  Torkington,  Parson  of,  Mulber- 
ton  ia  Norfolk,  to  Jerusalem,  An.  1517/'  as 
extant  in  the  Bodleian  Library. 

These  infatuations  are  interesting  chiefly  as 
they  enable  us  to  trace  the  history  of  human 
credulity ;  but  they  also  exhibit  to  the  philo- 
jiophcr  a  proof,  that  feelings  of  wonderment 


22 


MANBEVILLE. 


must  precede  curiosity,  by  which  the  faculties 
are  expanded  and  perfected.  Thus,  the  idle 
visions  we  have  been  contemplating  eventually 
gave  birth  to  a  spirit  of  rational  inquiry  into 
the  topographical  state  of  foreign  countries;^ 
which  produced  commerce,  and  those  other 
valuable  improvements  which  spring  from  the 
friendly  intercourse  pf  nations, 


)a{c|)anj  II* 


(    25    ) 


TREVISJ.—THE  POLYCHRONtCON. 

The  translation  of  the  Polychronicon,  by  Tre- 
visa,  is  the  first  prose  chronicle  in  the  English 
language,  and  is  among  the  earliest  prose  com- 
positions. It  may  possibly  be  equal  in  bulk  to  , 
all  which  existed  before  it:  for  in  1248,  it  is 
stated  by  Mr.  Ritson,  from  John  of  Glasten- 
bury,  that  no  more  than  four  books  in  English, 
(and  those  upon  religious  subjects,)  were  found 
in  the  library  of  Glastenbury-abbey,  one  of  the 
most  extensive  in  the  kingdom.  Leland  also, 
when  he  ransacked  the  monastic  and  other  li-  ^ 
braries  in' the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  found  only 
two  or  three  books  written  in  English. 

This  Chronicle  was  compiled  in  Latin,  by 
Ralph  Higden,  a  benedictine  of  St.  Werberg's 
monastery,  now  the  cathedral  in  Chester.  Hig- 
den  was  born  in  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  though 
in  whdt  year  is  unknown  ;  but,  as  he  is  said  to 
have  died  very  aged,  in  the  year  1363,  if  we 
assume  even  the  last,  year  of  the  reign  of  that 
prince,  or  1272,  for  the  time  of  his  birth,  his 
age  will  amount  to  no  less  than  91  years. 

By  a  comparison  which  has  been  made  of 


26  TREV13A. 

some  old  MS.  copies  of  this  Polychronicon, 
(reposited  in  the  Harleian  library,)  with  the  P(h 
lyciatica  Temporum  of  Roger  Cestreusis,  also  a 
Benedictine  monk  of  St.  Wcrberg,  a  suspicion 
has  arisen  that  Iligden  pillaged  the  greater  part 
of  his  Chronicle  from  the  Fo/ycratica;  and  that 
he  had  a  design  to  appropriate  the  labours  of 
his  brother  monk.  This  supposition  is  ren- 
dered the  more  probable,  from  the  following 
circumstance.  It  is  remarked  by  Bjshop  Ni- 
cholson (English  Historical  Library,  iedit.  1714, 
p.  ()5,)  that,  ^^  If  you  spell  the  first  letters  of  the 
several  chapters  that  begin  it,  you  read — Pr{&- 
sentem  Chronicam  f rater  compilavit  Ranulphus 
Monachus  Cestrensis;*  a  species  of  whim  comr 
mon  with  the  historians  of  those  tinaes.  Still, 
it  should  be  observed,  that  Hoger,  as  well  as 
Higdea,  was  a  collector,  and  that  the  latter  has 
subjoined  the  names  of  bis  authors.  The  fol- 
lowing is  alistof  his  authorities,  as  enumerated 
at  the  latter  ^nd  of  the  preface  to  the  first 
chapter: 

l.Josepbus.  2.  JEgedppus.  3.  Plinius.  4. 
Tragus  Pompeius,  5.  Justinus,  6..  Eusebius 
in  Historid  Ecclesiasticd.  7,  Historia  Ecclesi" 
astica  Triptita  cuique  ires  sunt  Auctores,  Euse- 
bius, Ilieronimus,  et  Theodorus  Episcbpus,    8. 


TREVISA.  27 

Aagmtinus  de  Civitate  Dei,  Q.  Orosus  Hy- 
spanus  Terraconensis,  Presbyter j  in  Libro  de  Or'- 
mestrd  Mmidi.  10.  Psydorus  Hyspalensis,  in 
Libro  Ethimologia.  11.  Solinus  de  Mirabilibus 
Mundi,  12-  Henricus  Huntendotiy  Archidiaco^ 
nus.  13.  Eutropius.  14.  Gualterus  Oxoniensis, 
Archidiaconus,  15.  Paulm  Diaconus,  in  His- 
torid  Longobardonum.  16.  Alfridm  Beverla^ 
censis,  Thesaurarius,  17.  Cassiodorus  de  Gesti9 
Imperatorum  tt  Pontijicum'  18.  Galfridus  Mo^ 
tiamutensis,  in  Historid  Britonum,  19.  Metho^ 
dius,  Martyrus  et  Episcopus ;  cui  incarcerate  re- 
velavit  angelus  de  mundi  statu,  principio,  ei 
fine.  20.  Willelmus  Ryvalensis,  21.  Giraldus 
Cambrenm  qui  descripsit  Topographiam  Hy- 
bemite,  Itinerarium  WallieCy  et  vitam  regis  Hen- 
rici  SecundiySub  Triplici  Distinctiones.  22.  Suc^ 
conius  de  Gestis  Romanorum.  23.  Valerius 
Maximus  de  Gestis  Memoria.  24.  Macro^ 
biusy  in  Saturnalibus.  25.  Johannes  Salisbu- 
riensis,  in  suo  Policraticon.  26.  Priscianus 
GrammaticuSy  in  Cosmogrdphid.  27.  Petrus 
ComeMory  in  Historid  Scholasticd,  28.  Hit- 
gusio  PysanuSy  Episcopus,  in  Magnis  Divi- 
nationibus  suis.  29-  Gregorius  de  Mirabilibus 
Roma.  30.  Vincentius  Beluacensis,  in  Specuto 
Ilistoriali.    31.  Beda  de  Gestis  Anglorum.    32. 


5S  TRRVISA. 

P uocarnotensis,  Episcopus,  33.  Beda  de  NatU' 
lis  Rerum.  34.'Historia  I^rancorum.  35.  Be^ 
da  de  Temporibus.  36.  Titus  Livius  de  Gestis 
Jtomanomm.  37.  Gildas  de  Gestis  Britonum* 
S8.  MartiuuSy  Penitentiarim  Domini  Papa,  in 
Qronicis  suis  de  Imperatoribus  et  Pontificis.  39» 
Marianus  Scotus.  40.  Willelmtis  Malmesbu-^ 
tiemisy  MonachuSy  de  Gestis  Regum  Jingling  et 
Pontificum.  41.  Florentius  Wigorum,  Mona-- 
chuSy  quern  in  annorum  supputatione,  una  cum 
Mariano y  potissime  sum  secutus, 

Florence  of  Worcesteij,  to  whom  Higden 
say?i  he  was  particularly  indebted  in  his  compu- 
tation of  time^  was  the  earliest  historian  of  the 
twelfth  century.  He  abridged,  or  rather  trans- 
cribed Marianus ;  adding^  however,  a  few  ju- 
dicious collections  of  his  own,  from  the  Saxon 
Chronicle,  and  other  sources.  To  whom- 
soever be  referred  the  principal  merit  of  the 
compilation,  it  is  generally  agreed,  that  Hig- 
den continued  the  Chronicle  from  1329  to 
1357,  if  not  to  the  end  of  the  seventh  book. 
Higden  is  valuable,  as  having  preserved  many 
remains  of  ancient  Chronicles,  now  lost. 

The  Polychronicon  is  thus  stiled,  as  the  au- 
thor himself  informs  us,  from  its  comprehend- 
ing the  transactions  of  many  ages ;  and  it  is  di- 


TREV1«A.  ^9 

yided  into  seven  ^ooks^  from  the  example  of 
Him  who  wrought  all  Ins  works  in  six  days, 
and  rented  on  the  seventh.  The  first  describet 
all  countries  in  general,  particularly  Britain* 
The  other  six  comprise  a  concise  account  of 
civil  history,  from  the  creation,  down  to  the 
author's  own  time ;  that  is,  the  reign  of  Edward 
III.  terminating  in  the  year  13o7. 

The  part  which  treats  of  England,  in  the  first 
book,  comprehends  15  chapters.  The  second 
book  contains  the  transactions  from  Adam  to 
the  burning  of  the  Temple  of  the  Jews.  Tlie 
third  extends .  to  the  transmigration  of  the 
people  to  Christ.  The  fourth  from  Christ  to 
the  arrival  of  the  Saxons.  The  fifth  from  the 
Saxons  to  the  Danes.  The  sixth  from  tlie 
Danes  to  the  Normans.  The  seventh  from  the 
Normans  to  the  reign  of  Edward  III. 

That  part  which  relates  to  the  Britons  and 
TSaxons  was  published  by  Dr.  Gale,  in  l691i 
fol.  Oxon.  among  his  ^^  Quindecim  Scriptores 
Historian  Brittanica  Saxonka  Am^lo-Danicie** 

This  Chronicle  was  transls^ted  into  English,  at 
already  suggested,  by  John  De  Trcvisa,  a  Cor- 
nish man,  and  vicar  of  Berkley,  Gloucester- 
f hire;. who  undertook  the'  task  at  the  request 
•f  Thomas  Lord   Berkley,  to  whom   he   was 


so  TREVISA. 

chaplain.  The  traiislatioa  begins,  with  Julitis 
Caesar ;  and  it  was  finished^  according  to  the 
Cottonian  MS.  in  the  tenth  of  Richard  IL  or 

in  1387. 

Trevisa's  work  commences  with  a  prefatory 

dialogue  on  the  Utility  of  Translations ;  De 
Utilitate  Tramlationum ;  Dialogus  Inter  Cle^ 
ricum  et  Patrofium ;  the  former  stating  his  rea^ 
sons  for  the  translation^  the  latter  opposing  it 
as  unnecessary;  the  Latin  being  the  more  ge*- 
neral  language.  After  this  comes  the  Epistle 
of  TjreTisa  to  his  Lordship ;  and  which  is  suf- 
ficiently curious  for  extraction  :  , 

Wealth  and  worship  to  my  worthy  and  worshipful 
Lord  Thomas,  Lord  of  Barkley.  I  John  Trevisa, 
your  priest  and  bedcman  *,  obedient  and  buxom*  to  work 
your  will,  hold  in  heart,  think  in  thought,  and  mean 
in  mind  your  needful  meaning  and  speech  that  ye 
spake  and  said,  that  ye  would  have  English  transla- 
tion of  Ranulph  of  Chester's  Books  of  Chronicles. 
Therefore  I  \vi\[  fond^  to  take  that  travail,  and  make 
English  translation  of  the  same  books,  as  God  grant- 
eth  me  graccr  For  blame  of  backbiters  will  I  not 
blinne*  for  envy  of  enemies,  for  evil  spiting  and  speech 

» confessor.        «  alert.         3  engage,  try,  endeavour, 

4  cease,  stop. 


TREVI8A. 


31 


©f  evil  speakers  will  I  not  leaoe^  to  do  this  deed:  for 
travail  will  I  not  spare.  C(mif6rt  I  have  in  needful 
making  and  pleasing  to  God,  and  in  knowing  that  1 
wote*  that  it  is  your  will. 

For  to  n>ake  this  translation  clear,  and  plain,  to  be 
known  and  understanden,  in  some  place,  I  shall  set 
word  for  word,  and  active  for  active,  and  passive  for 
passive  a-row,  right  as  it  standeth,  without  changing 
of  the  order  of  words.     But  in  some  place  I  must 
change  the  order  of  words,  set  active  for  passive,  and 
againward^;  and  in  some  place  I  mu^t  set  a  reason 
for  a  word,  and  tell  what   it  meaneth.     But  for  all 
such  changing,  the  meaning  shall  stand  and  not  be 
changed.     But  some  words  and  names  of  countries, 
of  lands,  of  cities,  of  waters,  of  rivers,  of  mountains 
and  hitts,  of  persons^  and  of  places,  must  be  set  and 
stand  for   themselves  in  their  own  kind;  as.  Asia, 
Europa,  Africa^  and  Syria ;  Mount  Atlas,  Sinai,  and 
Oreb ;  Marab,  Jordan,  and  Armon  ;  Bethlem,  Naza- 
reth, Jerusalem,  and  Damascus ;  Hannibal,  Rasin,  Ah- 
suerus  and  Cyrus ;  and  many  such  words  and  names* 
If  any  man  make  of  these  Books  of  Chronicles  a  bet- 
ter  English  translation  and  more  profitable,  God  do 
him  meed  *.      And  by  cause  ye  make  me  do  this  wieerf- 
fid^  deed,  he  that  quiteth^  all   good  deeds,  quite  ymr 
meed'',  in  the  bliss  of  heaven,  in  wealth  and  liking 


»  omit.        '  know.        ^  contrariwise.        *  reward  him. 
s  worthy  of  reward.        *  rctjuitcih.       ^  give  you  your  reward. 


S2  tKEVlSA. 

with  al)  the  holy  saiiits  of  mankind,  and  the  nine  otw 
ders  of  angels;  as  angels,  archangels,  principates^ 
potestates,  virtutes,  dominations,  thrones,  chenibin 
and  seraphin,  to  see  God  in  his  blissful  face  in  joy 
withouten  any  end.     Amen. 


0/ihe  Manners  ofiJie  ancient  Irish, -^Chajp,  S^,foL  34. 

Solinus  sajth  that  men  of  this  land  J?en  strong  of 
nation,  houseless,  and  great  fighters;  and  account 
xight  and  wrong  all  for  one  thing,  and  hen  single  of 
clothing,  scarce  of  meat,  cruel  of  heart,  and  angry  of 
speech,  and  drinketh  first  blood  of  dead  men  that  ben 
slain  ;  and  then  weshen  ^  their  visages  therewith,  and 
holden  them  paid  with  flesh  and  fruit  instead  of  mete,* 
and  with  milk  instead  of  drink ;  and  use  much  play- 
ing, idleness  and  bunting ;  and  travail  full  little.  Id 
their  childhood  they  ben  hard  nourished  and  hard  fed ; 
and  they  ben  unseemly  of  manners  and  of  clothing  . 
and  have  breech  and  hosen  all  of  one  wool ;  and  strait 
hoods  that  stretcheth  a  cubit  over  the  shoulders  b^ 
hind  ;  and  foldings  instead  of  mantles  and  of  cloaks. 
Also  they  use  no  saddles,  boots,  ne  spurs  when  th^ 
lide;  but  they  drive  their  horbes  with  a  ckarnbred 
ycrdt^  in  the  one  end.  Instead  of  bits  with  treach- 
es,  and  of  bridles  of  recstj  they  use  bridles  that  let 

*  wub.        *  meat.        s  chamfenred  )rtrd. 


tAevisa.  5S 

Ml  their  hoi^s  to  eat  their  meat  They  fight  uii- 
krmed,  naked  in  body;  nathelees^  with  two  darts  and 
5pears  and  with  broad  sp<xrthes%  they  ifight  with  one 
hand. 

These  men  forsake  tilling  of  land,  and  keepen  pas^ 
ture  for  beasts*  They  use  long  beards  and  locks  hang^ 
ing  down  behind  their  heads.  They  use  no  craft  of 
flax,  of  wool,  of  metal,  ne  of  merchandize,  but  givo 
them  to  idleness  and  to  sloth,  and  reckon  rest  for 
liking^  and  freedom  for  riches^  And  Scotland,  the 
tlaughter  of  Ireland,  Use  harp,  tymbre^  and  tabor.  Nc'^ 
tkelessy  Irishmen  be  cuhning  in  two  manner  instru-^ 
ments  of  music,  in  harp,  and  tgrnbre  that  is  armed 
with  wire  and  strings  of  brass ;  ill  which  instruments^ 
though  they  play  hastily  and  swiftly,  they  make  right 
merry  harmony  and  melody  with  thycke*  tunes  and 
warbles  and  notes ;  and  begin  from  bemoll  and  play 
secretly  under  dim  sound,  under  the  great  strings,  and  a 

turn  again  unto  the  safne ;  so  that  the  greater  part  of 
the  craft ^  hideth  the  craft';  as  it  would  seem^  as 
though  the  craft  so  hid,  should  be  ashamed  if  it  were 
take.  These  men  ben  of  evil  manner  in  their  living ; 
they  pay  no  tithes ;  they  wed  unlawfully ;  they  ispare 
tiot  their  aliks^;  but  the  brother  weddeth  the  bro- 
ther's wife.    They  befi^  busy  for  to  betray  their  neigh- 

1  lieverthele89»  ^  sparthe,  an  axe  or  halbart ;  (Du  Cang^jJ  seeurit 
Danha,  3  pleasure.    «tymbrel.    s  those,    ^art    ?  kindred* 

VOL,  I4  D 


34  TREVISA. 

bours  and  other ;  they  bear  sparikes  in  their  jbandi 
instead  of  staves,  and  fight  against  them  that  trust 
most  to  them.  These  men  hen  variable  and  uasted' 
fast,  treacherous,  and  guileful.  Who  that  dealeth 
with  them  needeth  more  to  be  ware  of  guile,  than  ot 
craft,  of  peace  than  of  irennynge  brondes^y  of  honey 
than  of  gall,  of  malice  than  of  knighthood.  They 
have  such  manners,  that  they  hm  not  strong  in  wars 
and  in  battle  me  true  in  peace.  They  become  goa- 
epbs  to  them  that  they  will  falsely  betray  in  the  got- 
sybrede  and  holy  kindred.  Everyche^  drinketh  other^s 
blood  when  it  is  shed.  They  love  some  deal  their 
noryce*  and  their  playfers^  whicji  that  suck  the  same 
milk  that  they  sucked  while  they  were  children* 
And  they  pursue  their  brethren,  their  cousins,  and 
their  other  kin,  and  despisen  their  kin  whiles  they 
Uve,  and  avenge  their  death  when  they  ben  slain. 
So  long  halii  the  usage  of  evil  customs  endured  among 
'them,  that  it  hath  gotten  the  mastery  ovor  them,  and 
turned  trtrcson  into  kmd\  so  feur  forth  that  they  ben 
traitors  by  nature.  And  aliens  and  men  of  rtraage 
lands  that  dwell  among  them,  foUowen  their  man- 
ners that  wmethe*  there  is  none  but  he  is  bemytted* 
with  their  treason  also.  Among  them  many  men 
pissen  sitting,  and  wonaen  standing. 

*  are«bnuids.    *  etch,    t  muriet,  mifse.   4  taXatt, 


Hiei%  ^6f»  v^my  men  in  that  land  fd^id  shapen  i^ 
limbs;  they  lack  the  b^efice  of  kind.  So  that  aow 
liere  ben  none  better  shapen  than  they  that  ben  there 
well  shapen>  and  none  worse  shapen  than  they  that 
^ben  evil  shapen^  And  skilfully  nature^  hurt  and  de- 
fouled  by  wickedness  of  living,  bringeth  forth  such 
:gromes^  and  evil  shapen  of  them,  that  with  unlawful 
dealing,  'with  foul  manners  and  evil  living,  so  wick- 
edly defouleth  kind  and  nature^ 

In  this  land  and  in  Wales,  old  wives  and  women 
were  wont  and  beuy  as  men  sai/en\  oft  for  to  shape 
themself  in  likeness  of  hares,  for  to  milk  their  neigh- 
bours' kine^  and  steal  her*  milk.  And  oft  greyhounds 
simnen  after  them  and  pursue  them« 


Much  of  the  above  axscount  of  the  Customs 
}^d  Manners  of  the  Irish^  was  plainly  taken 
from  Giraldus  Barn's  Topography  of  Ireland^ 
This  superstition^  of  old  wives  (or  witches^) 
turning  themselves  into  bares,  and  being  pur* 
f  ued  hy  greyhounds^  &c.  is  still  popular  in  the 
western  counties  of  England,  and  probably  ia 
others. 

On  the  subject  of  witches,  I  can  present  th^ 
reader  with  a  story,  which  places  in  a  very  strik- 

>frw»e,  o(&pring?   Also  t  man  semnt.    *  B9f^ 
Scows.        «fhcir. 


36  rut^isA. 

ing  light,  the  possible  illusion  of  the  imagiha-* 
tion>.  under  the  influence  of  superstitious  opi-^ 
nion.  It  may  be  proper  to  premise,  that  3 
witch,  in  her  quality  of  night-mare^  is  stiled,  in 
our  popular  superstition,  a  hag ;  and  that  con- 
sequently, a  person  troubled  with  the  night- 
inaxe,  is  said  to  be  hag-ridden. 

About  fifty  years  ago,  there  lived,  at  a  village 
in  Somersetshire,  an  old  woman,  who  was  ge- 
nerally reputed  a  witch.  Her  body  was  dry, 
and  bent  with  age ;  she  supported  her  feeble 
steps  with  crutches.  Her  voice  was  hollow,  of 
mysterious,  though  hypocritical  solemnity,  and 
from  her  eye  proceeded  a  glaring  and  a  pierc- 
ing light,  which  fixed  the  beholder  in  silent 
dread.  Around  the  blazing,  hearth  many  a 
tale  was  told,  and  every  tale  believed,  of  goods 
stolen  and  cattle  slain,  by  more  than  human 
means — ^how  she  prophesied  of  ill  to  come,  and 
dire  mishap;  and  that  whatever  was  foretold  in 
her  dark  forebodings,  was  sure  to  come  to  patss; 
— ^how,  often  on  the  back  of  lusty  cat,orbroom- 
stick  vile,  she  traversed  with  lightening  speed 
the  fields  of  air,  to  work  her  witcheries  in  fo- 
reign lands.^  No  one  had  doubt  she  had  do- 
ings with  the  devil. 

A  young  man  of  the  same  village,  at  the  age 


rlftBVISA.  37 

4>f  one  or  two  and  twenty,  and  in  the  full  vi- 
gour of  health,  began  to  receive  all  of  a  sud-t 
den  the  visits  of  the  night-mare,  every  night 
as  regularly  as  he  went  to  bed.  The  sittings. 
were  so  weighty  and  so  long  continued,  that 
his  health,  was  soon  materially  affected.  In  the 
course  of  three  or  four  months,  from  a  strong 
and  ruddy  y^uth,  he  became  feeble,  pale,  and 
emaciated;  and  finally  exhibited  the  e;c:temal 
symptoms  of  a  person  in  a  deep  decline.  Nei- 
ther he,  however,  nor  his  neighbours,  to  whom 
he  communicated  his  case,  had  any  doubts  re-i 
fipecting  the  real  cause  of  his  sufferings. 

In  spite  of  the  fears  of  superstition,  he  was  a 
man  of  great  resolution.  He  wan  resolved  to 
lie  in  wait  for  the  hag,  awake.  He  resolved  and 
re-resolved ;  but  unfortunately,  was  always  -opt 
pressed  by  sleep  before  the  critical  hour.  At 
length  he  succeeded.  He  continued  broad 
awake;  when,  at  dead  of  night,  he  distinctly 
heard  on  the  stairs,  the  sound  of  footsteps 
softly  and  cautiously  ascending.  He  was  all 
alive.  He  put  his  hands  from  under  the  bed* 
clothes  in  readiness  to  grasp  his  prey.  She 
reached  the  foot  of  the  bed,  ascended,  and 
proceeded  gently  and  gradually  along  either 
leg.    Advanced  beyond  the  knee,  she  was  pre- 


39  TRBVMA. 

paring  to  faU,  with  her  kaden  weight  upon 
his  breast.  In  a3i  instant^  he  leapt  towards  herj^ 
geized  her  with  both  his  hands  by  the  hm,  and 
held  her  with  convulsive  strength.  At  the 
fame  moment^  he  vociferated  to  his  mother^ 
who  slept  in  an  adjoining  room^  ^^  Mother^  I 
hate  caught  the  hag,— bring  me  a  Ught.**  The 
mother^  ilk  certain  faith^  flew  down  stairs  for  a 
4^andle, 

Meanwhile,  the  contest  continued  with  fu* 
rioiis  violence  between  the  so^  and  hagji  who 
dragged  him  out  of  bed ;  and  the  struggle  was 
then  continued  on  the  floor,  with  unabated  rage« 
The  candle  was  now  kindled;  but  on  the  very 
first  .glimmer  of  its  rays  on  the  stair-K^ase,  the* 
hag,  with  a  supernatural  force,  tore  herself  from 
his  grasp,  and  vanished  like  lightning  from  his 
€ager  eyes.  He  was  found  by  hjs  mother 
standing  on  the  floor  of  the  chamber,  almost 
iNreathless  with  the  efforts  he  had  used,  and 
with  both  his  handsyw//  ofhair^ 

On  hearing  the  story,  I  eagerly  inquired  for 
the  locks  of  hair.  He  replied,  without  the 
slightest  surprise  or  embarrassment :  '^  Ay  !«.— 
I  was  much  to  blame  for  not  keeping  the  hair; 
fot  that  would  have  identified  her  person  he-^ 
yobd  dispute*    But  in  the  hurry  of  my  feelings. 


I  let  it  drop  on  the  floor;  and  ihe  took  e^ie- 
cial  care  I  should  never  see  it  more.  But  I  so 
overhauled  her,  on  this  occasion^  that  she  re-^ 
turned  no  more  to  torment  me.  It  is  curious^ 
(said  he^)  that  while  I  had  her  in  my  grasp^  aiid 
was  struggling  with  her^  tho'  I  felt  convinced 
who  she  must  be^  yet  her  breathy  and  the  whole 
of  her  person^  appeared  to  me  like  those  of  a 
blooming  young  woman." 

The  person  to  whom  this  veiy  singular  inci. 
dent  happened  is  still  alive.  I  have  heard  the 
substance  of  the  story^  more  than  once^  from 
his  own  mouthy  and  can  therefore  vouch  for 
the  truth  of  the  effect^  whatever  we  may^ink 
of  the  cause. 


On  the  d^erent  Languages  of  the  Inkabittmts  of  JSii- 

t(an.    Chap.  Sg^/oL  54. 

As  it  is  knoweu  how  many  manner  people  ben  in  this 
island,  there  ben  also  many  languages.  Nethekss^ 
Welchmen  and  Scots  that  ben  not  medied*  with  other 
nations,  keep  nigh  yet  their  first  language  and  speech ; 
hut  yet  tho  Scots  that  were  sometime  confederate  and 
dweHed  with  Picts,  dra>^  somewhat  after  thdr  speech. 
But  the  Flenmiings  that  dwell  in  the  west  side  of  Wales, 

^  mixed. 


40  TREVISA. 

have  le(t  their  strange  speech,  and  speaken  like  thQ 
Faxons.  Also  Englishmen,  tho'  they  had  fro  the 
beginnipg  three  planner  speeches,  southern,  northern^ 
and  middle  speech,  in  the  middle  of  the  land,  as  they 
come  of  three  manner  people  of  Germania,  ntthekss^ 
by  cmnmixyon^  and  medling*  first  with  Danes,  and  af- 
terwards with  Normans,  in  many  things  the  country 
language  is  appayred^.  For  some  use  strange  wlaf- 
fyngCy  chythring^  h(irrj/i?ig,  and  grysbytinge.  This  ap- 
p^irins*  of  the  language  cometh  of  two  things;  one 
is  by  cause  that  children  that  goon^  to  school,  learn 
to  speak  first  English,  and  then  hen  compelled  to  con- 
strue their  lessons  in  French;  and  that  have  ben 
used  syn^  the  Normans  came  into  England.  Also 
gentlemen's  children  ben  learned  and  taught  from 
their  youth  to  speak  French  j  and  uplandish  men  will 
counterfeit  ai^d  liken  themselves  unto  geiitlemen,  and 
aren  besy'^  to  speak  French  for  to  be  mgre  set  by. 
Wherefore  it  is  said  by  a  common  proverb,  "  Jack 
would  be  a  gentleman,  if  he  could  speak  French/' 

Trevisq.  proceeds : 

This  manner  was  much  used  before  the  great 
death ;  but  syth  it  is  some  deal  changed :  for  Sir 
John  Cornwall,  a  master  of  gramihar,  changed  the 
teaching  in  grammar  school,  and  constructian  of 
French  into  English^  and  other  schoolmasters  use 


'  commixture.     ^  mingling.    3  impaired.    4  impairing,    s  ^; 

^since»    ^^busy. 


the  same  way  now,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1365,  the 
9th  year  of  king  Richard  II.  and  leaye  all  French  in 
^hools,  and  use<  all  construction  in  English ;  wherdn 
they  have  ^vantage  one  way^  that  is,  that  they  learn 
t»  sooner '  their  grammar ;  and  in  other,  disadvantage: 
^r  now  they  learn  no  French,  ne4;o;i*nonc;  which 
is  hurt  to  them  that  shall  pass  the  sea.  And  also 
gentlemen  have  much  left  to  teach  their  children  to 
^peak  French* 

Ranjdph,  Jt  saemeth  a  great  wonder  that  Eng^ 
lishmen  have  so  great  diversity  in  their  own  lan- 
guage in  sound  and  in  speaking  of  it,  >yhich  is.  all  ia 
one  islsind.  A;id  the  language  of  Normandy  is  comea 
out  pf  another  land,  and  hath  one  manner  sound 
^^nong  all  men  that  speaketh  it  in  England :  for  a 
man  of  Kent,  southern,  western,  and  northern  men, 
speaken  French  all  l^ke  i^  sound  and  speech;  hut 
they  cannot  speak  the^r  English  so. 

Trevisa,  Netheless,  there  is  as  many  divers  man- 
ners of  French  in  the  rot/alme*  of  France,  as  is  divers 
English  in  the  roycdme  of  England. 

jR.  Also  of  the  foresaid  tongue,  which  is  dejmrted^ 
in  three,  is  great  wonder:  for  men  of  the  east  with 
men  of  the  west,  accorden  better  in  sounding  of  their 
speech,  than  men  of  the  north  with  men  of  the  south« 
Therefore  it  is,  that  men  of  Mercii,  that  hen  of  middle 

Hot  thmncr.       *know«       '  realm*       *  divided. 


England,  as  it  w^e  partners  with  the  ends,  iind«r« 

» 

standen  better  the  side  languages,  northern  atid 
southern,  than  northern  and  southern  understandeth 
dther  other. 

W.  An  the  languages  of  the  Northumbres,  and 
especially  at  York,  i»  so  sharp  slyttmg^  frotyjige  and 
nmkape^  that  we  southern  men  maj  wmetk  under* 
:ttanden  that  language.  I  suppose  the  cause  be,  tlmt 
they  be  nigh  to  the  aliens  that  speak  strangely* 
And  also  by  cause  that  the  kings  of  England  abide 
and  dwell  more  in  the  south  country,  than  in  the 
north  country.  The  cause  why  they  abide  more  in 
the  south  country  than  in  the  north  country,  is  by 
cause  there  is  better  com  land,  moo^  people,  tno6  no* 
ble  cities,  and  moo  profitable  havens  in  the  touth 
country  than  in  the  north* 


Cftke  Mmmm  rfthis  (the  Welch)  natum.    Chap.  60. 

For  the  manners  and  the  doing  of  Welchroen  and 
of  Scots  hen  tofore  somewhat  declared ;  now  I  pur* 
pose  to  tell  and  declare  the  manners  and  the  condi* 
tions  of  the  medlyd^  ^eo^\e  of  England.  But  the 
Flemmings  that  ben  in  the  west  side  of  Wales  hen 
now  turned  as  they  were  English,   because  they 

>more»  *nuzedp 


TREVISA.  A3 

company  with  Englishmen*  And  they  ben  mighty 
and  strong  to  fight,  and  ben  the  most  enemies  that 
Welshmen  have^  and  U3e  merchandize  and  clothing, 
and  ben  all  ready  to  put  themselves  to  aventures  and 
to  peril  in  the  sea  and  land,  by  cause  of  great  win« 
ning;  and  ben  ready  some  time  to  go  to  the  plow^' 
and  some  time  to  deeds  of  arms,  when  place  and 
time  axeth.  It  seemeth  of  these  men  a  great  won- 
der, that  in  a  bocm  *  of  a  wether's  right  shoulder, 
when  the  flesh  is  sodden  away  and  not  roasted,  they 
know  what  it  have  be  done  ^  is  done,  and  shall  be 
done,  as  it  were  by  a  spirit  of  prophecy,  and  of 
-wonderful  crafU  They  tell  what  is  done  in  far 
countries,  tokens  of  peace  or  of  war,  the  state  of 
the  roydme^  slaying  of  men,  and  spouse^eechK 
^uch  things  they  declare  certainly  of  tokens  and 
signs,  that  be  in  such  a  shoulder  boon, 

R.  But  the  Englishmen  that  dwellen  in  England^ 
and  ben  medled  in  the  island,  and  benferre  *  fro  the 
places  that  they  sprung  of  first,  tumen  to  contraiy 
deeds  lightly  *,  without  enticing  of  any  other  men, 
by  their  own  assent.  And  so  uneasy  also,  full  un- 
patient  of  peace,  enemy  of  besynes^,  and  full  of  sloth, 
W.  de  Pon,  libro  3.  saith,  that  when  they  have 
destroyed  her  enemies  all  to  ground,  then  they  fight 

*  bone.    '  what  has  been  done.    '  matrimonial  infidelity. 
4  far.      5  easily,  eapricioutly.    ^^  business. 


44  TREVISA. 

with  themself,  and  sleeth '  each  other,  as  a  void  and  aah 
empty  stomach  wyrcheth  *  in  itself. 

R,  Netheless  men  of  the  south  ben  easier  and  more 
mild  than  men  of  the  north :  for  they  be  more  vusia- 
bk^y  more  cruel,  and  more  yneasy.  ,  The  middlemen 
ben  some  deal  partners,  with  both.  Also  they  use 
them  to  gluttony  more  than  other  men,  and  ben  more 

costlier  in  meat  and  clothing.     Me  supposed  t^at 

• 

they  took  that  vice  of  king  Hardekunt,  that  was  a 
Dane  :  for  he  hete  *  set  forth  twice  double  mess  at 
dinner  and  at  supper.  Also  these  men  ben  speedful 
on  horse  and  foot,  able  and  ready  to  all  manner  deeds 
crfanns,  BxAben  wont  to  have  victory  and  mastery 
in  every  fight,  where  no  treason  is  walkings  and  ben 
cnriouSf  and  can  well  tell  deeds  and  wonders  that  they 
have  seen.  Also  they  goo  in  divers  lands ;  unneth_ 
ben  any  men  richer  in  their  own  land,  or  more  gra* 
qious  mferre  and  strange  lands.  They  can  better  win 
and  get  new,  than  keep  their  own  heritage.  There- 
fore it  is  that  they  be  spread  so  wide,  and  wene*  that 
^very  land  is  their  own,  The  men  be  able  to  all 
manner  sleight  and  wit ;  but  before  the  deed,  blunder-i 
ing  and  hasty ;  and  more  wise  after  the  deed ;  and 
leave  th  off  lightly^  what  they  have  begun.  Pqli/^  libro 
Kxto,    Therefore  Eugenius,  the  Pope,  said  that  Eng-^ 

'  slay.  •  fvyrchethf  from  locrke,  to  worke  or  fret. 

3  inflammable,  passionate.  *  ordered,  commanded  [to  be}.. 

siinagine.    ^eaaiy,  capriciously. 


tREVISA.  45 

lisbmen  were  able  to  do  whatsomever  they  would, 
and  to  be  set  and  put  before  all  other,  ne  ntcretkat 
iigkt  wit  ktteth  ^  And  as  Hannibal  said  that  the  Ro- 
mans  might  not  be  overcome,  but  in  their  own  coun- 
try ;  so  Englishmen  nunve*  not  be  ov€frcome  in  strange 
lands  ;  but  in  her  own  country  they  be  lightly  over- 
come. 

R,  These  men  despisen  their  own,  and  praise  other 
men's,  and  unneth  ben  pleased  ner^  apdyed^  with  their 
own  estate.  What  befalleth  aqd  becometh  other  men^ 
they  will  gladly  take  to  themself.  Therefore  it  is 
that  ayeman^  arrayeth  him  as  a  squire ;  a  squire  as  a 
knight;  a  knight  as  a  duke ;  /a  duke  as  a  king.  Yet 
some  goo  about,  and  like  to  all  manner  state,  and  beti 
in  no  state:  for  they  that  will  take  £very  degree,  Jie 
of  no  degree. 

This  information  relative  to  the  Manners  of 
the  Welch>  is  chiefly  taken  from  Giraldus  de 
Barri,  as  the  reader  will  readily  discover  by  con- 
sulting that  author.  It  is  dispersed  through  seve- 
ral chapters  in  the  last  part  of  the  work,  which 
contains  a  description  of  Wales  and  its  inha- 
bitants. A  splendid  edition  of  Giraldus  Cam- 
brensis,  in  two  elegant  volumes  quarto,  has  been 
lately  given  to  the  public,  by  Sir  Richard  Colt 

t 

'This  phrase  probably  means  *<  nor  were  they  to  be  divcrttd 

from  dieir  purpose  by  any  ordinary  capacity  or  obstacle. 

'  may.    .3  nor.    <  appeased,  satisfied.    *yeomazL 


4fi  TMVISA. 

Hoare>  translated  into  English^  and  illustrated 
with  views>  annotations^  and  a  life  of  the  au« 
ihon 


('i     i«* 


The  Tolychronicon  was  continued  by  Cax* 
ton,  from  1357  to  1460,  the  first  year  of  Ed- 
ward IV.  being  a  period  of  one  hundred  and 
three  years.  For  this  undertaking  he  assign* 
the  following  reasons : 

*''For  as  much  as  syth  the  accomplishment, 
of  this  said  book,  made  by  the  said  Ranulph^ 
ended  the  year  of  pur  Lord  1357,  many  things 
have  fallen  which  ben  requisite  to  be  added  to 
this  work,  becaiise  men's  wits  in  their  time  ben 
oblivious  and  lightly  forget  many  things  digne  > 
to  be  put  in  memory ;  and  also  there  cannot  be 
found  in  these  days,  but  few  that  write  in  their 
registers  such  things  as  daily  happen  and  fall ; 
therefore,  I 'William  Caxton,  a  simple  person^ 
have  endeavoured  me  to'  write  first  over  all  the 
said  book  of  Polychronicon^  and  somewhat  have 
changed  the  rude  and  old  English,  that  is  to 
"wit,  certain  words  which  in  these  days  be  nei*« 
ther  used,  we  understood.    And,  furthermore, 

*  worth  J. 


TRBVISiU  4f 

have  put  in  emprint^  to  the  end  that  it  may  be 
had^  and  the  matters  therein  comprised^  to  be 
known,  for  the  book  in  general  torching  shortly 
many  notable  matters;  and  also  am  avised  to  make 
another  book  after  this  said  work,  which  shall  be 
set  here  dfter  the  same,  and  shall  haye  his  chap^ 
ters  and  his  table  apart;  for  I  dare  not  presume 
to  set  my  book  ne  join  it  to  his,  for  divers  causes^ 
One  is,  for  as  much  as  1  have  not,  ne  can  get  no 
books  of  auctority  f:reating  of  such  Cronykes,^ 
except  a  little  book  named  Fascictdus  Tempos 
rum,  and  another  called  Aureus  de  UniversOf  in 
which  books  I  find  right  little  matter  syth  the 
said  time.  And  another  cause  is,  for  as  much 
as  my  rude  simpleness  and  ignorant  makings 
ought  not  to  be  compared,  set,  ne  joined  to  hia 
book«  Then  I  shall,  by  the  grace  of  God,  set 
my  work  after,  apart,  for  to  accomplish  the 
years  syth  that  he  finished  his  book,  unto  the 
year  of  our  Lord,  14G0,  and  the  first  year  of 
the  reign  of  king  Edward  IV.  which  amount  to 
103  years." 

This  complaint  of  Caxton,  of  the  want  of 
proper  sources  of  information  obviously  arose 
firom  the  scarcity  of  books  before  the  inven- 

«    ^  ChroniGie9« 


4S  l^ETiSA^ 

tion  of  printing.  Besides,  the.  fifteenth  cctt'* 
turj  was  peculiarly  barren  of  good  writers,  par-* 
ticularly  of  history.  *  Yet,  even  in  that  age, 
there  were  authors  in  manuscript  (though  Cax- 
toh  was  not  so  fortunate  as  to  get  access  to 
them,  nor  even  knew  6f  their  existence,)  from 
whom  might  have  beenf  derived  far  more  am- 
ple documents.  Such  are  Froissard;  R.  Aves- 
bury;  Tit*  Livius;  T*  de  la  More;  J.  Rosse; 
H.Knyghton;  J.  Walsingham ;  J.  Wetheram; 
J.  Otterbome;  &c.  &c.  By  the  invention  of 
printing,  these  authors  are  become  more  ex*- 
tensively  known  than  at  the  time  of  their  writ- 
ing.. 

What  C&xton  says  of  Trevisa's  Translation  i& 
remarkable.  In  the  course  of  a  hundred  and 
wenty  years,  the  time  which  had  elapsed  be- 
tween that  translation  and  its  being  printed  by 
tim,  it  appears  that  the  language  had  under- 
gone such  alterations,  that  many  words^  used 
by  Trevisa  had  ceased  to  be  employed,  and  even 
to  be  understood.  This  great  change  was 
(especially  promoted  by  the  renowned  poets 
Chaucer  and  Gower,  to  whom  the  early  im- 
provement of  our  language  is  chiefly  to  be  at- 
tributed. 

Canton,  however,  did  not  escape  censure  for 


TREVISA*  49 

ehanging  what  he  deemed  the  obsolete  lan- 
guage :  for  says  he : 

^'  Some  gentlemen  blamed  me,  saying,  that 
in  my  translations,  I  have  over-curious  terms^ 
which  could  not  be  understand  of  common 
people,  and  desired  me  to  use  old  and  homely 
terms  in  my  translations.  As  I  fain  would  sa- 
tisfy every  man,  so  to  do,  I  took  an  old  book 
and  read  therein;  but  certainly  the  English 
was  so  rude  and  broad,  that  I  could  not  well 
imderstand  it.  Also,  the  Lord  Abbot  of  West- 
minster did  do  shew  to  me  late  certain  evi 
dences  written  in  old  English,  for  to  reduce  it 
into  our  English  then  used;  but.it  was  written 
in  such  wise,  that  it  was  more  like  to  Dutch 
than  English ;  so  that  I  could  not  reduce,  ne 
bring  it  to  be  understonden.  And  certainly,  our 
language  now  used,  varyeth  Tar  from  that  which 
was  spoken,  when  I  was  born ;  for  we  Englishmen 
ben  born  under  the  domination  of  the  moon, 
which  is  never ' stedfast,  but  ever  wavering; 
waxing  one  season^  and  waneth  and  decreaseth 
another  season.  And  common  English  that  i$ 
spoken  in  one  shire,  varyeth  from  another.** 

As  a  confirmation  of  this  last  slssertion,  he 
tells  the  following  story : 

''  In  my  days  (says  he)  happened,  that  oejr- 

VOL.  I.  K 


50  *  TREVISA. 

•s 

tain  merchants  were  in  a  ship  in  Tamyse\  for 
to  have  sailed  over  the  sea  into  Zealand ;  and 
for  lack  of  wind,  they  tarried  at  Foreland,  and 
went  to  land  for  to  refresh  them.  And  one  of 
them,  named  SheflFelde,  a  mercer,  came  into  an 
house,  and  axed  for  meat,  and  specially  he 
axed  for  eggs.  And  the  good  wife  answered 
that  she  could  speak  no  French.  And  the 
merchant  was  angry,  for  he  could  speak  no 
French,  hut  would  have  had  eggs,  and  she  un- 
derstood him  not.  And  then,  at  last,  another 
said  that  he  would  have  eyren.  Then,  the 
good  wife  said,  that  she  understood  him  welL** 

On  this  Caxton  exclaims : 

^^  Lo !  what  should  a  man  in  these  days  now 
write  eggs  or  eyren,  certainly  it  is  hard  to  please 
every  man,  because  of  diversity  and  change  of 
language :  for  in  these  days,  every  man  that  is  in 
any  reputation  in  his  country,  will  utter  his 
communication  and  matters,  in  such  manners 
and  terms,  that  few  men  shall  understand 
•  them.'' 

Again  he  infonns  us,  ''^That  some  honest  and 
great  clerks  had  been  with  him,  and  desired    . 
him  to  write  the  most  curious  terms  that  he 
could  find.    And  thus  (says  he)  between  plain, 

'  Thames. 


tuAe,  an4  curious^  I  stand  abashed.  But>  in 
my  judgment^  the  common  tenns  that  be  <}aily 
used  ben  lighter^  to  bennderstsmd  than  llie  old 
and  ancient  English." 

He  therefore  concluded^  ''  for  a  mean  be- 
tween both;  and  to  reduce  and  translate  into 
Qur  English^  not  over  rude  ne  curious^  but  in 
such  terms  as  should  be  understood^  by  God's 
grace,  according  to  his  copy." 

Caxton  introduces  his  own  performance  with 
a  short  prologue.     Incipit  liber  ulHmus. 

'^  Thence  following  this  fore  written  book  of 
Pol^hromcon,  I  have  emprized  to  ordain  this 
new  book,  by  the  sufferance  of  Almighty  God, 
to  contiime  the  said  work  briefly  ;^  and  to  ^et  in 
historical  things  such  as  I  have  can  get,  frool 
the  time  that  he  left,  that  Was  in  the  year  of 
our  Lord  one  thousand  three  hundred  and  se« 
Yen  and  fifty,  unto  the  year  of  our  said  Lord^ 
a  thousand  four  hundred  and  sixty,  and  to  the 
first  year  of  the  reign  of  king  Edward  IV /' 

This  additional  book  consists  of  thirty-three 
chapters,  and  concludes  thus :  ^^  And  here  I  make 
an  end  of  this  little  work,  as  nigh  as  I  can  find, 
after  the  form  of  the  work  tofore  made  by  Ra- 
nulph,  monk  of  Chester.    And  whereas  there 

1  easier. 


5«  tftEViSA. 

is  faulty  I  beseech  them  that  shall  read  it>  to 
correct  it :  for  if  I  could  have  found  more  sto- 
ries, I  would  have  set  in  it  more ;  but  the  sub- 
stance that  I  can  find  and  know,  I  have  shortly 
set  hem  in  this  book,  to  the  intent,  such  things 
as  have  been  done  sytk  the  death,  or  end  of  the 
said  book  of  Polychronicoriy  should  be  had  in 
remembrance,  and  not  put  in  oblivion,  ne  forget- 
ting; praying  all  them  that  shall  see  this  simple 
work  to  pardon  me  of  my  simple  and  rude  wri- 
ting. !&ided  the  second  day  of  July,  the  22d  year 
of  the  reign  of  king  Edward  IV.  and  of  the  in- 
carnation of  our  Lord  a  thousand  four  hundred 
four  score  and  twain.    Finished  by  Caxton." 

Higden  had  filled  his  margins  with  chrono- 
logical tables,  in  double  and  triple  columns. 
These  were  probably  omitted  in  the  copy 
which  Caxton  followed,  as  they  were  left  un- 
printed  by  him.  In  some  of  the  printed  co- 
pies, therefore,  those  tables  are  found  written 
througtiout  with  red  ink,  perhaps  with  his  own 
hand. 

Wynkin  de  Worde,  in  his  edition  of  the  Eng- 
lish PolychronicoH,  in  1495,  says,  that  in  imi- 
tation of  his  master  Caxton,  ''  He  had  added 
such  storicvS  as  he  could  find,  from  the  end  that 
Ranulph  finished  hi^  book,  which  was  in  1357, 


TREVISA.  53 

unto  the  year  1495,  which  ben  138  year.**  In  the 
Cottonian  library  is  a  manuscript  of  the  latter 
part  of  this  history,  which  .ends  in  1326,  and  is 
continued  by  some  unknown  hand,  t6  the  15th 
of  king  Richard  II.  or  1392. 

We  owe  considerable  obligations  to  Trevisa, 
in  his  being  one  of  the  first  to  give  a  literspry 
currency  to  his  native  language.  He  was  not 
merely  the  translator  of  the  Polychronicon,  but 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  and  at  the  in- 
stance of  the  same  munificent  patron^  Lord 
B^rkely ;  though  it  does  not  appear  that  any 
copy  of  this  translation  now  remains.  It  is 
mentioned  by  Caxton,  in  the  preface  to  his 
edition  of  the  English  Polychronicon.  He  waa 
.i^OLoreover  the  translator  of  several  other  works; 
as  Bartholomew  Hautville,  de  Proprietatibus 
Rerum,  lib.  19^  printed  by  Wynkin  de  Wqrde, 
1494,  folio :  and  Vegetius  de  Arte  Militaru  See 
also  more  of  his  translations  ii\  MS$.  Harl 
1900, 


(    54    ) 


WICUFFE. 

John  Wicliffe,  the  memorable  Englisli  Re- 
fortner,  *  tvafe  bora  in  the  parish  of  WiclifFe, 
near  lllchmond,  in  Yorkshire*  He  was  edu- 
cated at  Oxford,  where  he  obtained  distin^ 
guished  academical  honours,  having  been  ele- 
vated successively  to  the  Mastership  of  Baliol 
Coflege,  to  the  Wardenship  of  Canterbury  Hall^^ 
and  to  the  Professorship  of  Divinity  in  that 
University,  This  last  promotion  he  obtained  in 
1372. 

In  his  professorial  capacity,  he  found  his 
province  invaded,  and  the  privileges  of  the 
University  violated,  by  the  pretensions  of  the 
Mendicants;  and  at  first  only  gratified  his  just 
resentment  by  throwing  out  some  censures 
upon  the  several  orders  of  friars;  in  which, 
however,  he  could  not  forbear  touching  upon 
the  usurpations  of  the  pope,  their  great  patron 
and  abettor.  For  this  he  was  deprived  of  the 
wardenship  of  his  college  by  the  archbishop 
of  Canterbury>  who  substituted  a  monk  in  his 
place ;  upon  which  he  appealed  to  the  pope, 
who,  by  way  of  rebuke  for  the  freedom  with 


WICLIFFE.  55 

which  he  had  treated  the  monastic  order^^  con^ 
firmed  the  arehiepiscopal  sentence.    Wicliffe^ 
now  more  exasperated  than  ever,  gave  full 
scope  to  his  indignation^  and  attacked  without 
distinction^    both  in  his  sermons  and  other 
pieces^  not  only  the  whole  body  of  the  monks^  but 
the  ei^croachments  and  tyranny  of  the  chnrch 
of  Rome,  with  other  ecclesiastical  corruptions* 
In  the  year  1365,  we  find  the  name  of  Wic* 
hife  first  m^entioned  in  the  annals  of  our  coun-*> 
try.      It  was  on  occasion  of  the  demand  of 
pope  Urban  V.  for  the  payment  of  the  arrears 
of  the  tribute   of    one    thousand   marks  per 
armumy  imposed  upon  the  country  by  king 
John;   and  the  payment  of  which  had  been 
neglected  since  the  year  1333.    Wicliffe  seized 
this  opportunity  to  write  against  the  papal  dei- 
mand^  in  opposition  to  an  English  monk^  who 
had  published  in  its  defence.     This  recom«- 
mended  him  to  the  particular  notice  of  the 
king/  Edward  III.  who  conferred  upon  him  se- 
veral benefices,  and  employed  him  in  various 
embassies.    He  was  one  of  the  commissioners 
in  the  ecclesiastical  congress  at  Bruges,  in  the 
year  1374,  which  was  appointed  to  settle  the 
long-dispnfed  question  of  the  papal  provisions 
and  reservations.     Here,  from  his  intercourse 


\ 


56  wicLiyya* 

with  the  envoys  of  Gregory  XI.  he  gained  new 
light  as  to  the  policy  and  maxims  of  the  church 
of  Rome ;  and  on  his  return  the  year  following, 
he  began  to  expose  the  whole  system  of  the 
Romish  hierarchy;  openly  declaring  that  the 
pope  was  Anti-Christ  and  that  Man  of  Sin 
of  whom  St  Paul  and  St.  John  prophesied;  xind 
proceeded  to  combat  the  various  superstitious 
doctrines  of  the  papal  church.  For  this  stre- 
nuous opposition  to  the  pope,  he  was  cited,  in 
1377>  before  the  upper  house  of  convocation^ 
to  answer  to  a  charge  of  heresy ;  though  he  was 
protected  from  catholic  fury  by  the  generous 
interference  of  J  ohn  of  Gaunt,  duke  cf  Lancas- 
ter, who  had  before  procured  for  him  the  living 
of  Lutterworth,  in  Leicestershire.  As  this  prince, 
however^  had  patronised  WiclifFe  from  political 
motives,  he  subsequently  withdrew  his  patron- 
age on  finding  that  the  reformer  contended 
against  errors  and  usurpations  purely  jeligious. 
WiclifTe  laboured  zealously  and  incessantly 
to  disseminate  his  doctrines,  and  his  success 
wfts  wonderliil.  It  is  affirmed  by  the  monkish 
historian  Knighton,  his  cotemporary  and  inve- 
terate enemy,  that  more  thaii  one  half  of  the 
people  of  England  became  his  followers.  And 
such  was  the  persecuting  enmity  which  ac- 


WICLIPFE.  57 

tttfiled  the  catholics  at  this  idmost  miraculoat  * 
effect  of  his  preaching,  that  in  1382,  through  the 
instrumentality  of  Courtney,  archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  letters  patent  were  obtained  from 
the  king,  addressed  to  the  university  of  Oxford, 
requiring  them  within  seven  days  from  the  re- 
ceipt of  this  order,  to  banish  him  and  his  ad- 
herents frotn  the  university,  and  to  suppress 
all  books  and  writings  which  favoured  the  new 
heresy.  He  survived  his  expulsion  only  two 
years,  wheh  he  died  at  his  living  at  Lutterworth, 
by  a  stroke  of  the  palsy,  in  the  year  1384. 

His  inveterate  enemies,  the  catholic  clergy, 
betrayed  an  indecent  joy  at  his  death,  and  the 
council  of  Constance,  thirty  years  afier,  de- 
Creed  that  his  bones  should  be  taken  up  and 
thrown  on  a^  dunghill»--an  act  of  impotent  ma- 
lice, which  was  not  executed  till  1428,  on  oc- 
casion of  a  bull  for  that  purpose  from  pope 
Martin  V* 

The  writings  of  Wicliffe,  which  are  chiefly 
in  MS.  were  very  voluminous.  After  his  death 
they  were  condemned  by  various  councils,  and 
burnt  wherever  they  could  be  found.  It  i» 
said  by  Job.  Coccles,  {Hist.  Hussit.)  that  Sub- 
ynco  Lepus,  archbishop  of  Prague,  in  Bohemia, 
Vfhere  his  doctrines  made  great  progress^  pub- 


58  WICXIFFE. 

Mcly  burnt  more  than  200  volumes  of  them^ 
adorned  with  costly  covers  and  gold  bosses^ 
About  the  same  time  many  of  his  books  were 
likewise  burnt  at  Oxford.  But  the  works  of 
WicliiFe  were  so  multiplied^  that  all  these  at- 
tempts of  bigotted  malice  were  impotent  to 
annihilate  perhaps  any  one  of  his  numerous 
compositions.  Bishop  Bale,  who  flourished  in 
the  l6th  century,  affirmed  that  he  had.  seen 
about  150  treatises  of  Dr.  WiclifFe,  some  of 
them  in  Latii^,  and  others  in  English,  besides 
many  translations  of  several  books.  Many  of  his 
tracts  were  first  published  in  Latin,  and  after- 
ward- in  English.  To  give  even  a  catalogue  of 
his  works,  would  far  exceed  the  bounds  proper 
to  allot  to  this  article ;  but  the  curious  reader 
is  referred  to  the  9th  chapter  of  Lewis's  Life  of 
of  WiclifFe,  from  which  work  this  account  has 
chiefly  been  drawn.  The  fullest  catalogue, 
however,  of  his  writings,  is  that  of  bishop  Tan- 
ner, in  his  Bibliotheca  Hibemica. 

It  has  been  already  observed,  that  the  first 
objects  of  his  religious  censures,  were  the  men- 
dicant friars,  whose  numbers  and  encroach- 
ments had  increased  at  this  period  to  an  alarm*- 
ing  degree.  That  the  uninformed  reader  may 
form  a  more  correct  idea  of  the  justice  of  these 


WICLIPTS.  59 

censures  j  I  shall  extract  the  following  brief  ac- 
count of  these  orders  of  friars  from  Mr.  Ellis : 

^^  In  consequence  of  the  many  abuses  which 
had  gradually  perverted  the  monastic  institu- 
tions^ it  became  necessary^  about  the  begin- 
ning of  the  thirteenth  century^  to  establish  a 
new  class  of  friars^  who^  possessing  no  regular 
revenues^  and  relying  for  a  8ul)si8tence  on  the 
"general  reverence  which  they  should  attract  by 
superior  talent^  or  severer  sanctity  of  manners* 
should  become  the  effectual  and  permanent 
support  of  the  papal  Authority  against  those  he- 
resies which  were  beginning  to  infect  the 
churchy  as  well  as  against  the  jealousy  of  the 
civil  power.  The  new  institution  consisted  of 
four  mendicant  orders :  the  Franciscans^  who 
were  also  called  friars<-minor8,  or  minorities^  or 
grey-friars :  the  Augustine,  or  Austin-friars : 
the  Dominicans,  or  friars-preachers,  or  black-' 
friars :  and  the  Carmelites,  or  white-friars. 

For  the  purpose  of  quickening  their  zeal,  the 
pojpes  bestowed  on  them  many  new  and  un-* 
common  privileges;  the  right  of  travelling 
where  they  pleased,  of  conversing  with  persons 
of  all  descriptions,  of  instructing  youth,  and  of 
hearing  confessions,  and  bestowing  absolution 
withoutjreserve:  and  as  these  advantages  na- 


66  WICLIFFB; 

fHraliy  attracted  to  the  privileged  ortiera  all  the 
novices  who  were  distinguised  by  zeal  or  talent, 
excited  their  emulation,  and  ensured  the  re- 
spect of  the  people,  they  quickly  eclipsed  all 
their  rivals^  and  realised  the  most  sanguine 
bopes  that  had  been  entertained  from  their  esta^^ 
blishment. 

^*  The  mendicant  orders  of  the  thirteenth  and 
fourteenth  centuries,  but  particularly  the  Do*' 
minicans,  very  nearly  resembled  thetJesuits  of 
modem  times.  In  these  orders  were  found  the 
most  learned  men,  and  the  most  popular 
preachers^  of  the  ^g^.  The  almost  exclusive 
charge  of  the  national  education  enabled  them 
to  direct  the  public  taste  and  opinions;  the 
confessional  chair  placed  the  consciences  of 
their  penitents  at  their  disposal;  and  theix 
leading  members,  having  discovered  that  an  as- 
sociation in  which  individual  talents  are  syste^ 
matically  directed  to  some  general  purpose  i«^ 
jiearly  irresistible,  $oon  insinuated  themselves 
into  the  most  important  offices  of  church  and 
state,  and  guided  at  their  will  the  religion  and 
politics  of  Europe.  But  prosperity,  as  usual, 
made  them  indolent  and  impudent.  They  had 
long  been  envied  and  hated,  and  the  progress 
o^  general  civilization  raised  up  numberless  rir 


^Is^  possessing  equal  learnings  ambition^  and 
versatility  of  manners,  with  superior  activitj 
iand  caution.  They  quarrelled  among  them- 
selves, and  thus  lost  the  favour  and  reverence 
of  the  people ;  and  they  were  at  last  gradually 
sinking  into  insignificance,  when  they  were 
swallowed  up  in  the  general  wreck  of  monastic 
Institutions. 

''  The  magnificence  of  their  edifices,  which 
excited  universal  envy,  was  the  frequent  topic 
of  Wicljffe  s  invective.** 


WiclifTe  thus  exposes  their  practice  of  in- 
veigling the  youth  of  the  University  into  their 
convents : 

Fretes^y  (says  he)  draweth  children  from  Christ's  re- 
ligion, into  their  private  order,  by  hypocrisy,  lesings^g 
and  stealing.  For  they  tellen  that  theft-  order  w 
more  holy  than  any  other,  and  that  they  shoulden  have 
higher  degree  in  the  bliss  of  heaven  than  other  men 
tjiat  bin  not  therein,  and  sej/n  that  men  of  their  order 
should  never  come  to  hell,  but  should  dome  other 
men  with  Christ  at  doomsday.  And  so  they  stealen 
children  fro  fader  and  moder,  sometime  stich  as  be» 
unable  to  the  order,  and  sometime  such  as  shouldea 
sustain  their  fader  and  moder,  by  the  commandment 

>  Friws.  « lying. 


63  WICLIFFB. 

of  God ;  and  thus  they  ben  blasphemers  taking  upo« 
full  counsel  in  doubty^  things  that  ben  not  expressly 
commanded  ne  forbidden  in  holy  writ;  sith  such 
councel  is  appropred*  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  thus 
they  ben  therefore  cursed  of  God  as  the  Pharisees 
were  of  Christ. 

The  number  of  scholars  in  the  two  Univer- 
sities in  the  thirteenth  century  was  prodigious. 
The  famous  Richard  Fitz-Ralph,  archbishop 
of  Armagh,  in  an  oration  against  the  mendi- 
cant friars^  prono'unced  before  the  pope  and 
cardinals  in  1S57,  declares  that  in  his  time,  the 
number  of  students  had  diminished  from  SOjOOO 
to  6000,  in  the  University  of  Oxford.  This 
astonishing  diminution  he  attributed  to  the  arts 
of  those  friars,  who  enticed  so  many  young  men 
into  their  monasteries,  that  parents  were 
afraid  to  send  their  sons  to  the  University. 


Of  the  ignorance  of  the  clergy  of  his  time, 
he  assures  us  ; — 

That  there  were  many  unable  curates  that  kunnen^ 
not  the  ten  commandments,  ne  read  their  sauter,  ne 
iinderstond  a  verse  of  it.     Nay,  that  it  was  then  no- 

*  doubtful.  ^  appropriated.  3  Icnew. 


WICLIFTE*  fi) 

torious  that  too  many  even  of  the  prelates  were  sin" 
iiers,  in  their  being  ignorant  of  the  law  of  God,  and 
that  the  friars  supplied  for  the  bishops  the  office  oC 
preaching,  which  they  did  in  so  false  and  sophistical 
a  manner,  that .  the  church  was  deceived  instead  of 
edified. 


The  priests  being  too  lazy  and  too  ignorant 
to  preach,  excused  themselves  by  saying  that 
'^  Men  shoulden  cease  of  preacl^ing,  and  geven 
to  holy  prayers  and  contemplation,  for  that  bel- 
pen  more  christian  men,  and  is  better,"  ' 

To  this  Wicliffe  replies — 

That  true  men  seyn  ^  boldly  that  true  preaching  is 
better  than  praying  by  mouth,  yea  tho'  it  come  of 
heart,  and  cleaiidevotiqn ;  and  it  edifieth  more  the 
people ;  and  therefore  Christ  commanded  specially  the 
apostles  and  disciples  to  preach  the  gospel,  and  not  to 
close  them  in  cloisters,  ne  churches,  ne  stoves,  to 
pray  thus.  Thus  preaching  is  algates^  best ;  nethe- 
less,  devout  prayer  of  men  of  good  life  is  good  in  cer- 
tain time,  but  it  is  against  charity  for  priests  to  pray 
evermore,  and  no  time  to  preach,  sith  Christ  charg- 
eth  priets  more  for  to  preach  the  gospel,  than  to  say 
mass  or  matins. 

'  say.  '  always. 


.  He  afterwards  exclaims— 

Lord!  what  charity  is  it  to   a  cunning  man  t& 
diese^  his  otvn  contemplation  in  rest,  and  suffer  other 
men  to  go  to  hell  for  breaking  of  God's  h€sts\  when 
he  may  lightly  teach  them,  and  get  more  thanjp  (^f 
God  in  little  teachings  than  by  long  time  in  such 
prayers  !  Therefore  priests  shouiden  study  holy  writ^ 
and  keep  it  in  their  own  life^  and  teach  it  other  men 
truly  and  freely,  and  that  is  best  and  most  charity  j 
and  in  certain  times  pray  devoutly,  and  have  sorrow 
for  their  sins,   and   other   mens.     And  then   they 
shouiden  be  as  the  firmament  over  little  stars,  in  covets 
f arisoir  of  other  saints  in  heaven. 


Of  Monachism  he  thus  speaks ;  blaming-— 

Some  priests  for  unwisely  taking  a  vow  of  chas* 
tity,  and  defouling  wives,  widows,  and  maidens ;  (and 
observes  that)  sith  fornication  is  so  perilous,  and  men 
and  women  ben  so  frail,  God  ordained  priests  in  the 
old  law  to  have  wives,  and  never  forbid  it  in  the 
new  law,  neither  by  Christ,  ne  by  his  Apostles,  but 
rather  approved  it.  But  now  by  hypocrisy  of  feuds 
and  false  men,  many  binden  them  to  priesthood  and 
chastity,  and  forsaken  wives  by  God''s  law,  and  shffi' 
dtn^  maidens  and  wives,  and  fallen  foulest  of  all.  For 
many  ben  priests,  and  religious  in  doing  and  other^ 

^  ch^e«       «  oommands.       s  hurti  wrong,  violate. 


WICLIFFE.  65 

for  to  have  lustful  life  and  eiasy,  young  and  strong  of 
complexion,  and  faren  well  of  meat  and  drink,  and 
wollen  not  travail  neither  in  penance,  ne  study  of 
God's  law,  ne  teaching,  ne  labour  with  their  hands, 
and  therefore  they  fallen  into  lechery  in  divers  de- 
grees, and  in  sin  against  kind^. 


Of  Absolution, 
Worldly  prelates  blasphemen  against  God,  the  fa- 
ther of  heaven,  for  they  taken  upon  them  power  that 
is  specially  and  only  reserved  to  God;  that  is,  assoiling* 
of  sins,  and  full  remission  of  them.  For  they  taken  on 
them  principal  assailing  oi^xn^,  and  maken  the  people 
to  believe  so,  when  they  have  only  assoiling  as  vicars  or 
massagers^f  to  witness  to  the  people  that  God  assoUeth 
for  contrition ;  and  else  neither  angel,  ne  man,  ne  God 
himself  ass(n,leth^  hut  vfxk(t  sinner  be  contrite,  that  is, 
fally  have  sorrow  for  his  sins,  and  have  will  rather 
tb  stifFer  loss  of  cattle  and  worldly  friendship,  and 
house,  and  bodily  death,  than  to  do  wittingly  against 
commandment  and  will.  And  they  chargen  more 
their  own  assoiling,  than  assoUing  of  God.  For  if  a 
man  come  to  their  schrifs  *  and  sacraments,  they  as- 
soilen  him,  and  maken  him  sicker,*  though  the  man 
lie  upon  himself,   and  be  not  assailed  of,  God.     And 

*  nature.  "  loosing,  absolving.  3  messengers. 

♦  confessions.  *  sure. 

TOL.  I.  F  ' 


65  WICLIFFEr 

though  a  man  be  never  so  assoUed  of  God  for  his  en- 
tire sorrow  for  sin,  and  charity  that  he  hath  now  t^ 
God,  they  sei/h  '  that  he  is  damnable,  Irut  if'  he  be  as^ 
soiled  o(  them,  if  he  haite  space  thereto,  tho'  they 
hen  cursed  heretics  and  enemies  of  Christ  and  hi» 
people.  And  thus  they  taken  little  reward  to  God,^ 
when  he  saith,  **  in  whatever  time  a  sinful  man  hatb 
entire  sorrow  for  his  sins,  he  shall  be  safe,''  These 
prelates  shoulden  preach  this  contrition  and  mercy  of 
God,  and  joys  of  heaven,  and  the  peril  of  schrifty 
withouten  repentance;  and  foulness  of  sins,  and  great 
pains  of  hell,  and  righteousness  of  God,  to  make  the 
people  to  flee  sin,  and  keep  truly  God's  command- 
ments, and  not  deceiven  them  by  their  own  power  of 
assoilingy  ne  by  false  pardon,  ne  false  prayers,  and 
ether  nofvelries^  besides  God's  law. 


Of  Confession, 
Confession  made  to  true  priests,  and  witty  ii> 
God's  law,  doth  much  good  to  sinful  men,  so  that 
contrition  for  sins  before  done,  come  therewith,  and 
good  life,  and  keeping  God's  hests^  and  works  of 
mercy  done  to  poor  men,  sue  after. 


Of  the  Eucharist, 
The  Eucharist  is  the  body  of  Christ  in  die  foim  tf 

>say.    -    « novelties. 


bread.  The  right  faith  of  christian  men  is  this, 
that  this  worshipful  sacrament  is  bread  and  Christ" 9 
body,  as  Jesu  Christ  is  very  God  and  very  man ;  and 
this  faith  is  grounded  in  Christ's  own  word  in  the 
Gospel  of  St.  Mathew,  Mark,  Luke,  and  by  St.  Paul, 
and  plainly  in  holy  writ ;  and  thereto  accordeth  rear 
son  and  wit  at  the  full. 

After  this  he  cites  the  words  of  the  instil 
tiition  from  the  Gospels,  and  from  St.  Paul ; 
subjoining  also  several  passages  from  the  fii«> 
tbers,  and  then  concludes  in  these  words: 

Then  sith  these  auctorities  of  Christ  and  his  apos- 
ties,  ben  algates  soth  S  and  also  auctorities  of  these 
saints  and  clerks,  sith  they  accorden  with  holy  writ 
and, reason,  say  we  that  this  sacrament  is  very  bread, 
and  also  very  Christ's  body ; «  and  teach  we  this 
true  belief  to  christian  men  openly,  and  let  lords 
jnaintainen  this  truth  as  they  are  bounden  upon  pain 
of  damnatioHj^  skh  it  is  openly  taught  in  holy  writ, 
and  by  reason  and  wit»  And  damnen  we  of  this  cursed 
heresy  of  Anti-Christ,  and  his  hypocrites,  and  world- 
ly priests,  saying  that  this  sacrament  is  neither 
bread  ne  Christ's  body.  Fqr  this  is  not  taught  in 
holy  writ,  but  [is]  fully  against  St.  Austin,  and  holy 
saints,  ai;id  reason  and  wit. 

^  always  truth* 
F  3 


68  WICLIFFE^. 

-  In  the  time  of  Wicliffe^  it  was  ordered  iti  the 
iinivei*sity  of  Oxford,  that  priests  and  curates 
should  not  reud  the  scriptures  till  they  were 
of  nine  or  ten  years  suinding ;  and  some  papists 
went  so  far  as  to  assert  (probably  from  their 
hatred  to  Wicliffe,)  '^that  the  decrees  of  bi- 
shops in  the  church,  are  of  greater  authority, 
weight,  and  dignity,  than  is  the  authority  of 
the  scriptures."  In  reply  to  this,  WiclifFe  af- 
firms, that — 

Christian  men  and  women,  old  and  young,  should- 
en  study  fast  in  the  New  Testament,  and  that  no 
simple  man  of  wit  should  be  aferde  unmeasurably  to 
study  in  the  text  of  holy  writ;  that  pride  and  cove- 
tisse  of  clerks,  is  cause  of  their  blindness  and  heresy, 
and  priveth  them  fro  very  understanding  of  holy 
writ.  That  the  New  Testament  is  of  full  autority, 
and  open  to  understanding  of  simple  men,  as  to  the 
points  that  ben  most  needful  to  salvation ;  that  the 
text  of  holy  writ  ben  word  of  everlasting  life,  and 
that  he  thatkeepeth  meekness  and  charity,  hath  the 
true  understanding  and  perfection  of  all  holy  writ  j 
that  it  seemeth  open  heresy  to  say  that  the  Gospel 
with  his  truth  and  freedom  suffice th  not  to  salvation 
of  ci.ristidn  men,  without  keeping  of  ceremonies  and 
statutes  of  sinful  men  and  uncunning,  that  ben  made 
i!h  the  time  of  Satanas  and  of  Anti-Christ ;  that  men 


WlCLn?FK.  69 

^ught  to  desire  only  the  truth  and  freedom  of  the 
holy  Gospel,  and  to  accept  nian's  law  and  ordinances 
only  in  as  aiuch  as  they  ben  grounded  in  holy  scrip- 
ture, either  good  reason  and  common  profit  of 
Christian  people.  That  if  any  man  in  earth,  either  an- 
gel of  heaven  teacheth  us  the  contrary  of  holy  writ, 
or  BjUy  thing  against  reason  and  charity,  we  should 
flee  from  him  in  that,  as/ro  the  foul  fiend  of  hell,  and 
hold  us  stedfastiy  to  life  and  death,  to  the  truth  and 
freedom  of  the  holy  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  take 
us  meekly  men's  sayings  and  laws,  only  in  as  much 
as  they  accordcn  with  hoiy  writ  and  good  consciences ; 
no  further,  for  life,  neither  for  death. 


WiclifFe  seized  all  occasions  of  exposing  the 
corruptions  of  the  church  of  Rome,  and  the 
shameiess  vices  of  the  clergy,  both  regular 
and  secular  ;  but  no  part  of  his  conduct  excited 
their  rancour  so  much,  as  his  undertaking  to  ^ 
translate  the  scriptures  into  English.  They 
affirmed,  '^  It  is  heresy  to  speak  of  the  holy 
scripture  in  English." 

And  so  (says  Wicliffe)  they  would  condemn  the 
Holy  Ghost,  that  gave  it  in  tongues  to  the  apostles 
of  Christ,  as  it  is  written,  to  speak-  the  word  of  God 
in  all  languages  that  were  ordained  of  God  under  hear 
yen,  as  it  is  written. 


70  WICLIFFB. 

Again^  he  complains — 

ThUk '  that  have  the  key  of  conning  *,  have  y-hchtd 
the  truth  of  thy  teaching  u|ider  many  wards,  and 
^'Jadfro  thy  children, 

» 
He  gives  his  reasdns  for  this  great  under- 
taking, in  the  form  of  an  apology. 

Lord  God!  sithin  at  the  beginning  of  faith,  so  many 
men  translated  into  Latin,  and  to  great  profit  of  La-* 
tin  men ;  let  one  simple  creature  of  God  translate 
into  English,  for  profit  of  Englishmen.  For,  if 
worldly  clerks  look  well  their  chronicles  and  books^ 
they  shoulden  find,  that  Bede  translated  the  Bible, 
and  expounded  much  in  Saxon,  that  was  English,  ei- 
iher^  common  language  of  this  land,  in  his  time. 
And  not  only  Bede,  but  king  Alfred,  that  founded  Ox- 
enford,  translated  in  his  last  days,  the  beginning  of 
the  Psalter  into  Saxon,  and  would  more,  if  he  had 
lived  longer.  Also  Frenchmen,  Bemers^  and  Britons, 
han'^  the  bible  and  other  books  of  devotion  and  expo- 
fidtioii  translated  into  their  mother  language.  Why 
shoulden  not  Englishmen  have  the  same  in  their  mo* 
ther  language?  I  cannot  wit^.  No,  but  for  falseness 
and  negligence  of  clerks,  either  for''  our  people  is  not 
worthy  to  have  so  great,  grace  and  gift  of  God,  in 
]pain  of  their  old  sins. 

*  those.  ,     3  knowledge.       3  or.        «  Bohemians.       5have« 
^  know,  or  tell.  7  or  because. 


•WICLIFFE,  71 

As  the  several  translations  of  the  scriptures 
had  very  considerable  influence  on  the  early 
progress,  as  well  as  on  the  subsequent  esta- 
blishment, of  our  language,  I  shall  perhaps  be 
excused  for  introducing  in  this  place,  a  brief 
acc6unt  of  those  versions  which  existed  prior 
to  Wicliffe. — It  is  asserted  by  Fox,  the  mar- 
tyrologist,  in  the  prefacrf  to  his  $axon  copy  of 
the  four.  Gospels,  published  in   1571,  from  a 
MS.  in  the  Bodleian  library,  that  Bede  not 
only  translated  the  whole  Bible  into  Saxon,  but 
also,  not  long  before  his  death,  the  Gospel  of 
St.  John  into  the  English  of  his  time ;  that  Al- 
fred translated  both  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment into  bis  native  language ;  that  if  histo- 
ries were  well  examined,  it  would  be  found 
that  before  the  conquest  and  after,  as  likewise 
before  Wicliffe  and  since,  the  whole  body  of 
scripture  was  translated,  by  sundry  persons,  into 
English;  and  that  Arundel,  archbishop  of  York, 
and  chancellor  of  England,  at  the  funeral  ser- 
mon of  queen  Anne,  who    died  in  1394,  af- 
firmed that  princess  to  have  had  the  Gospels  in 
the  vulgar  tongue,  with  divers  expositions  upon 
the  same,  which*  she  sent  to  him  to  be  ex- 
amined. 

it  may  be  proper  to  remark  upon  this  ab- 


72  WICLIFFB. 

.  stract,  that  the  English  language  as  spoken  at 
present,  did  not  begin  to  be  formed  till  several 
centuries  after  the  Anglo-Saxon  version  of 
Bede,  who  died  in  734 ;  and  that  the  version  of 
the  Gospels  last-mentioned,  as  in  the  posses- 
sion of  queen  Anne,  was  probably  that  of  Wic- 
liiFe^  as  he  died  ten  ye^rs  before  that  prin-> 
cess,  . 

There  was,  however,  a  metrical  version  of 
the  scriptures  in  French,  mentioned  by  War^ 
ton,  in  his  History  of  English  Poetry,  made 
fibout  the  year  1200;  and' one  in  prose,  by 
Mace,  in  1343 ;  and  another  also  in  verse  by 
Raoul  de  Presles,  in  the  year  1380.  From  the 
intimate  connection  of  the  English  and  French,, 
and  from  the  circumstauce  of  the  French 
tongue  being  the  language  of  the  court,  at  this 
period, those  versions  were  very  possibly  knowa 
to  some  of  the  higher  ranks  in  ^iigiand.  But 
the  lower  orders  were  unable  to  »ead  even  in 
their  vernacular  language;  and  from  the  ge-^ 
neral  ignorance  which  hence  prevailed,  the 
impudence  and  selfish  policy  of  the  monks^ 
were  busy  ih  propagating  the  opinion,  that 
it  was  unlawful  for  any  but  priests  to  read 
the  scriptures.  Yet,  in  spite  of  this  ternfio 
dogma,   Richard  RoUc;,  herpiil  of  HamppJej 


in  Yorkshire,  who  died  in  1349,  had  the  cou- 
rage to  translate  the  Psalter,  and  the  hvmns  of 
the  church,  into  English;  and  he  has  the  ho- 
nour of  being  the  first  who  rendered  a  portion 
of  the  contents  of  this  venerable  volume  into 
his  vernacular  language.  He  also  wrote  a  gloss 
in  EngUsh,  upon  the  Psalter ;  of  which  tiicre 
is  a  somewhat  different  translation  in  the  Har- 
leian  iil^rary,  also  \\  ilh  a  gloss ;  and  in  the 
King's  hbrary  another,  from  psalm  SQ,  to  118% 
At  the  end  of  the  MS.  of  ilampole's  Psalter, 
in  Sidney  College,  Cambridge,  follow  the 
Canticles  translated  and  commented  on,  as  the 
book  of  Psalms. 

It  seems  likewise,  that  some  parts,  if  not  the 
whole  of  th?  JNc\v  Testament,  were  also  trans- 
lated by  different  persons,  and  glossed  and  ex- 
plained in  the  same  manner.  In  the  MS.  library 
of  Bennet  College,  Cambridge,  is  a  gloss,  in  the 
English,  spoken  after  the  conquest,  on  the  follow- 
ing books  of  the  New  Testament ;  viz.  the  Gos- 
pels of  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke,  the  Epistles  to  the 
Romims,  Corinthians,  Galatians,  Ephesians, 
Philippians,  Colossians,  Thessalonians,  Ti- 
mothy, Titus,  Philemon,  and  Hebrews ;  among 
which  is  inserted,  between  the  Epistles  to  the 
Colossians  and  Thessalonians,  the  Apocryphal 


74  WICLIFFE. 

Epistle  to  the  Lapdiceans.  The  comment 
which  accompanies  this  version,  resembles  thut 
of  Hampole ;  being  for  the  most  part  mystical 
and  allegprical. 

Whether  Trevisa's  version,  before  men- 
tioned, consisted  of  the  whole  Bible,  or  merely 
of  some  particular  portions  of  it,  is  doubtful; 
though  the  latter  supposition  is  tjie  most  pro- 
bable. 

.  These  translations,  then,  of  parts  of  the  Old 
and  NewTestament,not  of  the  whole  Bible,  were 
all  made  before  Wicliffe  began  to  flourish.  Jt 
is  probable,  too,  that  they  were  not  published; 
but  designed  merely  for  the  translator's  own  use. 

TJiat  the  reader  may  form  some  idea  of  these 
several  versions,  I  shall  transcribe  the  Magni- 
ficatCf  as  a  specimen  from  each.  . 

Hampole^ 

My  soui  worships  the  Lord,  and  my  ghost  joyed 
in  God,  my  hele  ,  •  , 

For  ke  looked  on  the  meekness  of  his  hand- 
maiden. 

lio!  for  why ;  of  that,  blissful  me  shall  say  all  ge- 
nerations. 

*  For  he  hath  done  to  me  great  things,  that  mighty 
is,  and  his  name  halif\ 

» health.       «  holy. 


WICLIFFE.  75 

And  the  mercy  of  bim  fro  hmr^den  to  hmredem^  to 
tho  dreaden  him. 

He  did  might  in  his  arm,  he 'scattered  the  proud 
fro  the  thought  of  her  heart. 

He  did  down  the  mighty  officttk  \  and  he  heghed* 
the  meek. 

The  himgerand^he  Ailfilled  of  goods,  and  the  rich  he 
left  tome  *. 

He  received  Israel  his  child,  he  is  umthought  ^  of  his 
mercy. 

As  he  spake  to  our  fathers,  to  Abraham,  and  to  his 
seed  in  worlds. 


MS,  Bennet. 

My  soul  hogis  ^  or  lofys  God,  and  my  spirit  joyed 
God  my  heaL 

For  he  has  beholden  the  meekness  of  hit  hand- 
maidqn. 

Lo !  therefore  blessed  me  shall  say  all  generations. 

For  he  hath  done  great  things,  for  he  is  mighty, 
and  holy  tho  name  of  him. 

And  his  mercy  from  progeny  to  progeny  to  iko 
dreaden  him. 

« 

'  seat.        "  hegh,  or  high ;  to  raise,  or  exalt*         3  hungry. 
♦  empty  ?        ,   5  mindful. 
*  Aa|^,  to  high,  raise,  or  exalt.    '  hj^f  to  ioftjf  raise,  or  caalt. 


76  WICLITFE. 

He  msAe  power  in  his  artii,  he  sparbyld^  tho  proud 
in  tho'uglit  of  their  heart. 

He  down  put  the  mighty  off  setthy  and  he  heghed 
tho  meek. 

Tho  hungry  he  filled  with  goods,  and  tho  rich  he 
left  void. 

He  took  Israel  his  child  umthought  of  his  mercy. 

As  he  spake  to  our  fathers,  Abraham  and  seed  of 
him  in  worlds. 


MS.  Sydney^ 

■  « 

My  soul  magnifieth  the  Lord,  and  my  spirit  hath 
gladed  in  God  minfe  health. 

For  he  hath  beholden  the  meekness  of  his  hand- 
maiden, 

'  Lo  forsooth !  of  this,  all  generations  5cWew*  say  m'e 
blessed. 

For   he  that  is  mighty  hath  done  to  me  great 
things,  and  his  name  is  holy. 

•  And  his  mercy  fro  kindred  to  kindred,  to  men 
dreading  him. 

He  made  might  in  his  arm,  he  scattered  proud 
men  with  mind  of  his  heart. 

He  putted  down  mighty  men  fro  seat,  and   en- 
hansed  meek. 

He  hath  fulfilled  hungry  rneii  with  good  things^  and 
hath  left  rich  men  void.  i 

>  scattered.  6hall. 


WICLIFTET.  77 

He  having  mind  of  his  mercy,  took  up  Israel  bit 
child. 

As  he  hath  spoken  to  our  fathers,  to  A  braham,  ait^ 
to  his  seed  into  worlds. 


Wicliffe's  translation,  in  which  he  was  as- 
sisted by  several  of  his  followers,  probably  oc» 
ciipied  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life.  As  h« 
was  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the -He- 
brew and  Greek  to  translate  from  thdm,  liia 
version  was  made  fronv  the  vulgate,  of  which  he 
collated  numerous  copies,  ills  n>ethod  of 
translating  was  literal^  or  word  for  word,  as 
had  been  done  before,  in  the  Anglo-^^axonic 
translation,  without  much  atlcutiou  to  the  dif- 
ference of  idiom  in  the  two  languages.  Hence, 
this  version,  in  some  places,  is  not  very  intel- 
ligible to  those  who  are  unacquainlcd  with  the 
Latin.  WiclnTe  seems  to  have  done  this  by 
design ;  since,  in  a  prologue  to  his  Psalter,  he 
says,  ^'  They  who  know  not  the  Latin,  by  the 
English,  may  come  to  many  Latin  v.  ords."  It 
should  be  observed  too,  that  the  vulgate  text 
from  which  WichfFe  translated,  though  col- 
lated  from  numerous  copies,  differed,  in  Biany 
places,  from  the  established  vulgate  of  modern 


78  WICLXFFB. 

times.  Of  this  translation^  several  MS.  copieii 
still  exist  in  the  libraries  of  onr  Universities^  in 
the  British  Museum^  and  in  other  public  and 
private  collections.  In  St.  John's  College  in 
Oxford  is  a  MS.  of  the  Old  Testament,  said  to 
be  of  WiclifFe's  own  writing,  which  ends  with 
the  Second  Book  of  Maccabees.  I  shall  give 
«  specimen  from  this,  as  before  quoted  hj 
Lewis. 


Uxod,  XX. 
And  ye^  spake  all  yese^  words.  I  am  ye^  Lord 
God,  yat^  lad  ye  out  oiye  land  of  Egypt, ^o  ye  house 
of  servage^.  You  sbalt  not  have  alien  Gods  before 
me.  You  shalt  not  make  to  ye,  a  graven  image^ 
neyir^  any  likeness  oi ying'^  which  is  in  heaven  above, 
and  which  is  in  earth  beneath,  neither  of  yo  yingis  • 
yt  ben'^  in  waters  under  earth.  You  shalt  not  herie 
yo^^f  neyer  you  shalt  worship. 


Levit.  XX vi. 
Ye  shulen  "  not  make  to  you  an  idol,  and  a  grav^B 

^hc.       « these.        3  the.        *  that,      s  bondage.      *  »cithcr. 

7tbing«    ^  those  things.    9  that  are.    **  master  them,  i.e.  treat 

theta  as  masters,  or  superiors.     >^  shaU. 


WICLIFFE.  79 

# 

image;  neyer  ghe^  diukn  raise  tytlis**,  it  is  an- 
iesisi  for  idolatry;  net/er  ghe  skulm  set  a  noble 
stone  in  your  land,  that  ye  worship  it. 


Deutero,  v. 
You  shalt  not  have  alien  Gods  in  my  sight.  You 
shalt  not  make  to  ^^c  a  graven  image,  neyer  a  like- 
ness of  dllyinges  yat  hen  in  heaven  above,  and  j^o^ 
ben  in  earth  beneath,  and  yat  liven  in  waters  under 
earth.  You  shalt  not  herie  them,  and  thou  shalt  not 
worship  hem. 


To  the  several  books  of  the  New  Testament^ 
WiclifFe  prefixed  the  prologues  or  prefaces  of 
St.  Hierome,  as  they  are  vulgarly  called,  with 
additions  of  his  own.  His  New  Testament 
was  published  in  1731^  fol.  by  Lewis,  with  a 
history  of  the  English  translations  of  the  Biblej 
from  which  work  this  account  of  them  has  been 
chiefly  abstractjed.  A  short  specimen  will  suf- 
fice to  giv^  the  reader  an  idea  of  tlie  manner 
in  which  it  is  executed. 

Rom.  chap.  viii.  v.  28,  29,  30. 
And  we  zi;ifen*  that  to   men  that  love  God,  afl 

»  yt,         a  stamdtng  images*        ^  awther,  «a«is»?       «  know^ 


60  WICLIFFE. 

/ 

thing  is  worken  together  into  good,  to  them  that  al-» 
ter  purpose  ben  clepitl^  saints.  For  thilkc^  thatt  he 
knew  before,  he  before  ordained  by  grace,  to  be 
made  like  to  the  image  of  his  Son,  that  he  be  the 
first  begotten,  among  many  brethren.  And  thilke 
that  he  before  ordained  to  bliss,  them  he  clcped ;  and 
which  lit  clcpc a,  them  he  justified;  and  which  he 
justified,  them  he  glorified. 


The  most  outrageous  abuse  was  bestowed  upon 
Wicliffc  b}  the  Catholic  paity,  for  thus  ena^ 
bling  the  multitude  to  draw  al  the  fountain  of 
their  faith.  Jlenry  Knyghton^  canon  of  Leices- 
ter, his  cotemporar}^  thus  speaks  of  his  labours. 
*^  This  Master  John  WiclifTe^  translated  out  of 
Latin  into  English^  the  Gospel^  which  Christ 
had  entrusted  with  the  clev^v  and  doctors  of 
the  church,  that  thei/  might  minister  it  to  the 
laity  and  weaker  sort,  according  to  the  exigency 
of  times,  and  their  several  occasions.  So  that 
by  this  means,  the  Gospel  is  made  viilgar,  and 
laid  more  open  to  the  laity,  and  even  to  wo- 
men, who  could  read,  than  it  used  to  be  to  the 
most  learned  of  the  clergy,  and  those  of  the- 
test  understanding.    And  so  the  Gospel  jewel/ 

I  calle(J^  « that* 


WICLIFFE.  gjt' 

or  Evangelical  pearly  is  thrown  about  and 
trodden  iinder  foot  of  swine.'* 

This  is  a  mild  specimen  of  Catholic  rage* 
The  general  alarm^  however,  among  the  clergy 
was  so  great,  that  in  the  13th  of  Richard  II.  a 
bill  was  brought  into  the  House  of  Lords  for 
suppressing  it;  but  was  opposed  in  so  firm 
a  tone  by  the  renowned  duke  of  Lancaster^ 
that  it  was  thrown  out. 

Some  of  the  followers  of  Wicliffe,  encouraged 
by  his  success,  undertook  to  review  his  transla- 
tion, or  rather  to  make  another,  which  was  less 
literal,  but  more  coinformable  to  the  sense.  Of 
this  version  also,  various  MS.  copies  exist  in 
our  public  libraries. 

In  the  age  of  Wicliffe,  the  orthodox  divines 
commonly  wrote  in  Latin.  But  the  sentiments 
he  was  so  zealous  to  promulgate,  could  not 
have  been  sufficiently  diffused,  if  he  had  con- 
fined himself  to  a  learned  language;  and  to  give 
his  arguments  their  utmost  influence  by  ren- 
dering them  intelligible  ,to  the  bulk  of  the  peo- 
ple, he  was  compelled  to  write,  as  well  as  to 
speak,  in  the  vernacular  tongue.  His  quarrel 
with  the  pope,  therefore,  in  addition  to  the 
more  important  consequences  it  involved,  may 
be  considered  as  highly  auspicious  to  English 

VOL.g.'  o 


as  WlCLlFft. 

literature :  for  his  influence  with  his  coiexhfCh 
traries^  arising  from  his  talents  and  pre-eminent 
learnings  aided  by  the  contagious  nature  of  the 
sentiments  he  was  ambitious  to  disseminate^ 
greatly  contributed  to  give  diffusion  to  that 
fashion  in  the  use  of  the  English^  which  had  al- 
ready begun  to  prevail,  and  which  was  subse- 
quently established  by  the  exertions  of  Chau-' 
cer  and  Gower.  Another  circumstance  which 
tended  to  give  currency  to  the  national  dialect, 
was  that  Edward  III.  regarding  the  Norman 
tongue  as  a  badge  of  conquest,  aboliBhed  it  in 
the  public  acts  and  judicial  proceedings,  and 
substituted  the  language  of  his  country. 

WiclifFe  surpassed  all  the  learned  men  of  his 
j^e  in  extent  and  variety  of  knowledge.  In- 
deed, his  great  learning  and  general  superiority 
were  allowed  eyen  by  his  enemies.  He  was 
eminently  skilled  in  all  the  logical  subtleties  of 
the  schools,  and  as  a  disputant  was  unrivalled^ 
He  had  a  profound  knowledge  of  the  civil  and 
canon  law,  as  well  as  of  our  own  municipal  laws. 
But  his  studies  were  more  particularly  directed 
to  theological  learning;  and  he  not  only  trans- 
lated the  scriptures  into  English,  but  wrote 
notes,  expositions,  and  homilies,  upon  various 
parts  of  them*    Hi&  character  was  marked  by 


pi^ty>  benevolence^  and  ardent  zeal ;  to  which 
was  ^dded>  great  gravity^  aad  even  austerity 
of  manners,  befitting  the  first  champion  of  re« 
Kgious  liberty. 

After  his  deaths  his  followers,  by  way  of  m^ 
proach>  were  stiled  Lollards'*. 

It  is  not  easy  to  know  what  wete  the  opi^ 
nions  of  Wicliffe  on  some  important  points,  as 
they  appear  to  have  fluctuated  in  several  parti- 
culars>  as  is  usual  in  the  pursuit  of  truth;  andia 
a  few  instances  were  evidently  modified  by  his 
various  persecutions.    But  his  opinions  in  the 


*  The  term  LoUatd,  according  to  the  canonist  l^rndwood,  H 
4criTed  from  the  Latin  word  loliitm,  which  signifies  a  cockle  ; 
because  that  weed  is  injurioos  to  the  com,  among  which  it 
grows  'f  infelix  2olmm.— Georg.    Thus  the  Lollards^  if  we  are  t6 
believe  the  Catholics,  corrupted  and  injured  the  good  intta« 
thms  of  those  with  whom  they  had  hitercourse.    To  this  deri^ 
vation  of  the  word)  Chaucer  Eludes  in  the  following  lines : 
This  LoUar  here  woll  preache  us  somewhat. 
He  wolde  sowin  some  difficultie. 
Or  spring  in  some  cockle  in  our  clebe'Corn. 

Squire*s  Pfologut, 
Others  derive  the  name  from  one  Walter  Lothard,  a  Oer^ 
man.  Beautobre  Distert.  sur  Adamites,  4^.  Others,  again, 
from  Lullard^or  Lollards,  the  praises  of  God;  a  sect  so  named. 
Which  was  dispersed  through  Brabant.  PicUU  Orathn,  [See 
lewis's  Life  of  Reynold  Pecotke.] 

Q  2 


84  wwLirrB* . 

main^  derived  from  his  examination  of  the 
scriptures^:  and  his  .researches  into  ecelesiasti- 
ca]  antiquity^  resembled. those  of  the  reformers 
of  the  l6th  century :  though  in  some  points  ho 
went  even  ftirther  than  they.  In  addition  to  the 
sentiments  contained  in  the  above  extracts>iie 
maintained  that  the  clergy  ot^ght  to  possess  no 
estates ;  that  the  numerous  ceremonies  of  the 
church  of  Rome,  are  ii^jurious  to  true  piety  ; 
that  oaths  are  unlawful ;  and  what  is  very  re-, 
markable,  that  the  church  is  dependent  on  the 
state,  and  ought  to  be  reformed  by  it*  Yet>  af* 
ter  all  his  innovations,  it  must  be  allowed  that 
his  sentinuents  are  deeply  coloured  by  the  su- 
perstition of  his  age.  He  was  an  advocate  for 
the  Calvinistic  doctrines  of  grace,  predestina- 
tion, &c.  &c. 

But  it  were  uiyust  to  try  WiclifFe  by  the  test 
which  would  be  proper  for  a  public  character 
of  modern  times.  ^We  must  consider  the  age . 
in  which  he  lived— oppressed  and  enslaved  by 
the  baleful  superstition  of  the  Romish  church, 
and  still  overshadowed  by  the  thick  darkness 
spread  over  the  nations  since  the  ir^ruption  of 
the  Gothic  barbarians*-^and  we  shall  ocjcnow- 
ledge,  that  his  services  to  mankind  were  incal- 
culable.    In  respect  of  the  two  points,  1.  Of  op- 


position  to  the  friars^  £.  Of  those  paiticular  eiH 
cro^hments  of  the  pope>  by  whicdx  he  supers 
seded .  the  ecdesiastical  constitutioJi  of  every 
eoiintry>  disposing  at  his  pleasure  of  beneficei( 
and  dignities  throughout  Christiaadom— ^Wic** 
liffe  had,  precursors  in  St.  Amour,  Fitzi^dph 
l^:chbishQp  of  Armlagh,  and  Gro&tete  bishop 
of  lincohi.  But  he  was  the  first. to  throw  off 
the  trammels  of  implicit  faith,  and  to  teadi  hk 
l^quntrymen  and  the  world,  to  judge  for  them-^ 
telres ;  jpd  his  unwearied  exertions  sowed  the 
^eeds  ortt^t  auspicious  revolution  in  reUgion^ 
which,  about  s^  century  and  l^air  after,  iir* 
lived  at  full  maturity.  His  design,  m^as  to  p^x>« 
duce  a  revolution  in  the  m^ojraU  as  well  as  in 
the  religioi^  of  mankind  ;  and  he  l:^as  th^  glory 
of  giving  an  impulse  to  the  soul,  whicl^  wiU 
progifessively  augment  to  the  end  of  time. 

Should  it  b^  thought  that  I  dwell  too  lohg 
upon  a  writer  so  antiquated,  and  whose  wo^ks 
are  not  likely  even  to  be  cpnsulted,  except  by 
the  curious,  J  would  beg  leave  to  observe,  that  to 
fhose  who  delight  to  contemplate  the  progress 
of  the  human  species  in  knowledge  and  re- 
finement, nothing  will  be  uninteresting  in  the 
character  and  conduct  of  those  who  have  taken 
the  first  steps  in  this  important  process,  how- 


96 


WiCLIFFE. 


ever  law  those  steps  may  be  placed  in  th^ 
imaginary  scale  of  perfection.  In  all  stages  oS 
society^  those  unquestionably  deserve  the 
highest  praise^  who  outstep  the  rest  of  their  co-» 
temporaries  9  who  rise  up  in  solitary  majesty 
ami^t  a  host  of  prejudices  and  errors^  combat** 
ing  intrepidly  on  one  side^  though  assailed 
and  weakened  on  another.  The  merit  <H)nsist& 
in  ^tting  the  example ;  in  exhibiting  a  pattern 
after  which  othei?s  may  work.  It  is  easy  to 
follow^  when  there  is  one  to  lead ;  but  Jp  be  thi^ 
first  to  strike  out  into  a  new  and  untried  way^ 
in  whateter  state  of  society  it  may  be  found^^ 
mariss  a  genius  above  the  common  order.  Such 
pien  are  entitled  to  everlasting  gratitude. 


(    87    ) 


-  .'i 


CHAUCER. 

i 

Wb  come  now  to  the  renowned  poet  and  emi- 

nent  scholar  Geopfrey  Chaucek  ;  and  a« 
the  recorded  particulars  of  his  life  are  not  nu^ 
merous^  and  are  besides  of  a  description  cak 
cnlated  to  illustrate  the  manners  of  the  age>  I 
shall  give  them  at  some  length ;  premising^ 
that  the  account  is  borrowed  almost  exclusively 
irom  Mr.  Godwin's  late  work. 

Chaucer^  from  the  original  inscription  on  hit 
tomb-stone^  died  in  1400^  aged  72.  He  was 
therefore  bom  in  1328 ;  and  himself  has  inv- 
fonned  us  that  his  birth-place  was  London; 
His  father  was  probably  a  merchant.  In  his 
''  Court  of  Love,"  a  poem  which  he  published 
at  the  age  of  eighteen,  he  speaks  of  himself  as 
*'  Philogenet  of  Cambridge,  Clerk ;"  hence  ix 
may  be  presumed,  that  he  passed  some  of  the 
later  years  of  his  education  at  that  university ; 
though  it  is*  affirmed  on  the  authority  of  Le^ 
land,  and  likewise  inferred  fr6m  some  coila- 
teml  evidence,  that  he  afterwards  removed  ta 
Oxford.  ^ 


88  CHAUCBR. 

« 

After  leaving  this  university,  he  spent  seve- 
ral years  in  France,  where  he  became  complete 
master  of  the  language  and  literature  of  the 
ijountry.  His  residence  in  Paris  was  some  time 
between  the  years  1347  and  1355.-— Oii  bis  re^ 
turn  to  England,  he  entered  as  student  of  the 
Inner  Temple,  This  is  affirmed  by  lielandj^ 
end  is  likewise  inferred  from  the  authority  of 
a  record  mentioned  by  Speght,  in  his  Life  of 
Chaucer,  as  seen  by  one  Master  Buckky; 
which  states,  that  *'  Geoffrey  Chmucer  was 
£ned  two  shillings  for  beating  a  Franciscan 
friar  in  Fleet^street."  It  does  not  appear,  howr 
ever,  that  he  ever  practised  the  law. 

From  die  dOth  year  of  his  age,  Chaui» 
^erwas  a  coairtier-^-^a  distinction  which  he 
dwed  to  his  poetical  talents.  As  early  as  the 
3i^ar  1359>  he  had  a  house  assigned  him  by  his 
sovereign,  at  Woodstock,  where  he  spent  thet 
greater  part  of  his  life,  Froiii  bis  connectioQ 
"irith  the  court,  it  is  not  improbable  that  he  had 
some  share  in  the  education  of  the  young  duke 
of  Lancaster,  who  subsequently  became  his 
constant  friend  and  patron. 

■  ■  • 

In  the  year  1359^  he  accompanied  the  expe* 
dition  of  Edward  III.  to  France;  a  fact  which 
i3  cpncluded  from  the  circunistance  of  his  be*' 


CHAUCER.  89 

ing  exan^ined  as  a  witness  in  a  cause  of  anns 
depending  in  the  Court  Military^  between  sir 
Richard  le  Scrope  and  sir  Robert  Grovenor, 
in  1386^  and  his  deposings  that  he  had  ahead j 
^  borne  arms  twenty-seven  years/*  He  closed 
his  military  career^  however^  with  the  peace  of 
Bretigni^  the  year  following. 

In  1S67>  he  obtained  from  Edward  III.  bj 
the  title  of  Valettus  hospitii,  an  annual  pension, 
for  life>  of  twenty  marks^  for  services  perform- 
ed, or  to  be  performed ;  or  till  the  icing  should 
otherwise  dispose  of  ^him,  as  expressed  in  the 
grant.  This  was  his  first  pecuniary  favouf 
fron^  the  court,  which  (estimated  at  eighteen 
times  the  value,),  is  equivalent  to  2401.  of  our 
^oney. 

In  the  year  1370,  he  was  married  to  Philipp« 
Rouet,  or  more  probably  Philippa  Pycard  de 
Kouet,  and  sister  of  Blanche,  wife  of  the  duke 
<>f  Lancaster.  The  same  year  he  was  sent  on  a 
i^pecial  mission  to  France,  the  object  of  which 
is  unknown ;  and  three  vears  £^er  was  associ^ 
ated  with  sir  James  Pronan,  vice-admiral  of 
the  Genoese  auxiliaries,  and  John  de  Mari,  a 
citizen  of  Genoa,  in  an  embassy  to  that  repub- 
lic, for  the  purpose  of  agreeing  upon  some 
ti^wn  or  spot,  on  the  sea  coast  of  oiir  island,  at 


OO  CHAUCER. 

vi^tiic^h  the  Genoese  might  establish  a  regular 
factory.  After  having  discharged  bis  commis-, 
sion.  he  made  the  tour  of  the  northern,  states  of 
Itajy,  and  visitecj  Petrarca,  who  read  to  him  his 
version  of  the  t«^le  of  Grisildis,  of  which  Ghau- 
cer_,took  a  copy,  Petrarca  also  introduced 
him  to  an  acquaintance  with  the  worksi  of 
BoQcacicio,  and  did  not  survive  his  interview 
with  the  British  .bard  more  than  a  twelve^ 
month. 

Chaucer,  on  his  return  the  following  year,  re^ 
ceivpd  a  grant  6f  a  pitcher  of  vruxeper  diem,  to 
be  delivered  daily  in  the  port  of  the  city  of 
Iiondon,  by  .the  king's  chief  butler,  during  the 
term  of  his  natural  life^  The  pitcher  here  men- 
tioned is  supposed  equal  to  a  modem  .gaUon> 
«nd  the  annual  value  of  the  wine  about .  lOl. 
equal  in  mpdem  money  tp  1801.  About  six 
weeks  after,  he  was  appointed  comptroller  of 
the  duties  of  customs  in  the  port  of  London ; 
but  in  consequence  of  the  iiltrigues  and  <ion- 
vulsions  of  the  reign  of  Richard  IL  he  forfeited 
this  office. 

The  next  year,  the  wardship  of  Edmund  Sta- 
plegate,  a  minor,  was  conferred  upon  him  by 
%he  crown.  This  was  a  grant  of  some  impor* 
t^nce,  as  it  committed  to  lum  tbe  custody  of 


<  I 


\ 


CHAUCEK.  Ot 

all  the  estates  which  devolved  to  his  ward  bj 
the  death  of  his  father ;  together  with  his  ma^ 
ritagium,  or  the  fee  paid  by  a  tenant  holding 
immediately  from  the  orown^  for  the  royal 
consent^  in  case  he  married  while  a  minor. 
Such  wardships,  by  the  feudal  institutions,  be<p 
longing  to  the  crown,  were  often  conferred  by 
the  king  as  boons  on  his  principal  favourites.' 
The  heir  finally  redeemed  the  rights  conferred 
on  Chaucer,  for  the  sum  of  1041.  equal  to  l,872l. 
sterling. 

i  The  next  favour  conferred  upon  him  was  a 
grant  of  contraband  wcTol,  forfeited  to  the 
crown,  in  value  7ll.  4s.  fid.  equal  to  l,262l.  Is. 
of  modern  money.  In  1377,  Chaucer,  in  con-o 
junction  with  sir  Guichard  Dangle,  and  sir 
Kichaxd  Stan,  or  Sturry,  was  appointed  a  com- 
missioner for  treating  of  the  marriage  of  Ri- 
chard prince  of  Wales,  with  a  daughter  of 
Charles  V.  both  being  children  of  about  ten 
years  of  age ;  but  the  treaty  failed. 

The  day  after  the  death  of  Edward  III.  in 
1378,  Chaucer  obtained,  through  the  interest  of 
John  of  Gaunt,  the  renewal  of  the  grant  of  the 
office  of  comptroller  of  the  customs.  His  pen-*- 
sion  was  also  renewed,  under  the  new  king,  as 
likewise  a  grant  of  twenty  marks  jper  annum,  ii^ 


92  cH^uc£t:«  > 

compensati6n  of  the  patent  of  Edward  III.  en* 
titling  Ahim  to  a  pitcher  of  wine  daily.  More* 
over>  the  office  of  comptroller  of  small  cus- 
toms in  the  same  port  was  conferred  upon  him 
in  1382 ;  a  boon  which  is  suppoise^  to  have 
been  obtained  at  the  request  of  Ann  of  Bohe* 
mia,  and  to  have  been  the  pledge  by  which  she 
engaged  him  in  her  service^  and  constituted 
him  her  poet. 

In  the  year  J  584^1  there  wa$  a  contention  be* 
tween  the  city  and  the  courts  respecting  the 
election  of  a  mayor,  which  the  latter  bad  been 
accustomed  despotically  to  impose  upon  die 
citizens,  in  disregard  of  their  election.  This 
seems  to  have  been/part  of  a.  plot  to  ruin  Johi^ 
of  Gaunt;  and  Chaucer^  from  attachment  to 
his  patron,  as  well  a§  from  a  sense  of  duty> 
warmly  defended  the  citizens  against  the  courtj 
but  unable  to  prevail,  he  was  constrained  to 
fly  his  country  to  save  his  life.  He  repaired 
first  to  Hainault,  and  afterwards  to  the  pro- 
vince of  Zealand,  where  he  seems  to  have  fixed 
his  principal  residence.  Here  he  met  with  se- 
veral of  his  countrymen  who  had  been  involved 
in  the  late  disturbances  ;  and  as  his  finances 
were  in  a  better  condition  than  theirs,  he  ge« 
nerously   and  liberally  supplied  their  wants* 


His  generosity  on  this  occasidn^  aidded  to  die 
pierfidy  of  his  friends  in  England,  who,  desert- 
ing  him,  withheld  fresh  supplies,  soon  exhaust* 
ed  his  resources,  and  he  was  forced  to  return  to 
England,  after  an  absence  of  about  two  years. 
He  was  scarcely  arrived,  when  he  was  arrested, 
and  committed  prisoner,  as  is  supposed,  to  the 
Tower. 

During  his  imprisonment,  he  was  deprived  of 
both  his  offices  of  comptroller  of  the  customs 
in  the  port  of  London,  and  of  comptroller  of 
the  small  customs.  He  even  appears  to  have 
suffered  great  pecuniary  distress  at  this  time : 
for  he  obtained,  in  1388,  a  patent  permitting 
him  to  resign  the  two  pensions  of  twenty  marks 
each,  being  all  that  now  remained  to  him  of 
the  bounty  of  the  crown,  and  which  he  pro* 
bably  exchanged  for  money  to  supply  his  ur- 
gent wants. 

Chaucer  was  set  at  liberty  in  1389,  probably 
through  the  interposition  of  the  queen;  though 
on  conditions,  the  acceptance  of  which  has 
fixed  the  principal  stain  upon  his  character. 
As  the  price  of  his  enlargement,  he  was  re- 
quired to  make  an  ample  confession  of  what 
were  qalled  his  misdemeanors,  and  to  impeach 
his  former  associates^    To  this  proposal  he  coo- 


§4  €»AveEt% 

Bented,  and  as  he  says  himself,  in  his  ''  Testa* 
ment  of  Love,**  offered  to  prove  the  truth  ot 
his  information,  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  times,  by  entering  the  lists  with  the  parties 
accused.    It  is  but  just  to  acknowledge,  that, 
his  conduct  in  this  affair,  though  far  from  ho- 
nourable, will  nevertheless  admit  of  consider^i 
able  extenuation.  It  should  be  recollected  that 
his  former  friends,  by  embezzling  his  income, 
and  cutting  off  his  resources  when  abroad,  had 
plotted  to  starve  him*     He  was  not  influenced^ 
therefore,  simply  by  the  overtures  of  the  courts 
but  stimulated  by  a  natural  resentment  against 
treatment  thus  inhuman.     Still  the  informa- 

.  tion  in  question  brought  upon  him  a  load  of  ill 
will,  and  the  charge  of  being  false,  lying,  base> 
and  ungrateful. 

The  §ame  year,  he  received  the  appoint- 
ment of  clerk  of  the  king's  works,  in  lieu  of 

-  that  of  comptroller  of  the  duties  of  customs. 
This  office  related  to  the  erection,  repair,  and 
embellishment  of  the  king's  mansions,  parks, 
and  domains  ;  and  among  our  national  records 
is  still  to  be  seen  a  commission  addressed  to 
him,  of  the  date  of  the  12th  of  July,  1390,  for 
work  to  be  done  at  St.  George's  chapel,  in  the 
castle  of  Windsor.    The  salary  attached  to  thi» 


CHilVCEll*  95 

employment,  was  2s.  per  day,  or  S6L  \(h.  per 
annum;  in  modern  money  6571. 
'  At  the  age  of  63,  he  resigned  his  office  of 
clerk  of  the  works,  aftet  having  enjoyed  it 
about  twenty  months,  and  retired  to  a  private 
station;  (probably  to  his  house  at  Woodstock,) 
as  in  the  conclusions  of  the  Astrolabie,  in 
which  there  is  the  date  of  the  12*h  of  March, 
1391>  he  says,  ''  sufficient  for  our  orizont  com^- 
pounded  after  the  latitude  of  Oxenford.** 

After  he  had  been  engaged  about  a  twelve* 
month  in  the  composition  of  his  Canterbury 
Tales,  he  found  himself  under  the  necessity-, 
in  1394,  of  applying  to  the  crown  for  some  in- 
crease of  resources;  and  was  granted  a  pension 
of  201.  (in  modern  money  360\.) per  annum ,  for 
the  remainder  of  his  life.  Two  years  after, 
John  of  Gaunt  publicly  espoused  Catherine, 
lady  Swinford,  the  sister  of  Chaucer's  wife, 
with  whom  he  had  cohabited  twenty  years. 
Chaucer  thus  became  connected  in  family 
with  his  illustrious  friend  and  patron,  who  pur- 
chased and  bestowed  upon  him  the  estate  of 
Donnington  castle,  near  Newbury,  in  th^ 
county  of  Berks. 

After  seven  years'  retirement,  we  find  hirrv 
again  engaged  in  public  affairs;  though  ihe 


95  CRAUCBltd 

precise  natiiie  of  his  office  we  are  left  to  con* 
jecture  from  the  description  of  ^' a  great  va-r 
riety  of  arduous  and  urgent  political  transac- 
tion0>  to  be  performed  and  expedited  by  Chau* 
ccr,  as  well  in  presence  as  absence  of  the  king^ 
in  various,  parts  of  the  realm.'*  It  seems,  that 
in  the  execution  of  this  office,  he  was  liable  to 
be  disquieted,  molested,  or  impeded  by  cer- 
tain persons  his  competitors,  and  vexed  with 
suits, complaints,  and  hostility;"  and  to  prevent 
which,  a  patent  of  protection  was  granted  him, 
in  1S98,  by  Richard  IL 

In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  he  received 
a  grant  of  a  tun  of  wine  yearly,  to  be  delivered 
to  him  by  the  king^s  chief  butler,  in  the  port 
of  London.  At  this  time,  he  had  probably  re* 
tired  again  to  Donnington  castle. 

On  the  usurpation  of  Henry  of  Boling- 
broke,  by  the  title  of  Henry  IV.  Chaucer  had 
his  former  grants  confirmed  to  him,  and  also 
obtained  an  additional  grant  of  40  marks  per 
annum;  also,  his  son  Thomas  was  made  chief 
butler  to  the  .household,  and  speaker  of  the 
house  of  commons.  In  the  last  yeat  of  his  life 
|ie  came  to  London,  where  he  died  the  25th  of 
Oct.  1400. 

Qi!haucer's  fame  with  posterity  rests  securely 


CHANCER.  97 

on  the  merit  of  his  poetical  composiiifdns.  Hii^ 
prose  productions  are  neither  numerous^  nor  of 
much  importance. 

The  Testament  of  Love,  his  longest  work, 
was.  written  while  he  was  prisoner  in  the  Tow- 
er, after  he  had  delivered  in  his  confession, 
and  before  he  was  liberated;,  or  about  the 
month  of  June,  1389*  His  chief  design  in 
this  work,  was  to  remove  the  odium,  not  to 
say  calumnies,  cast  upon  his  character  by  his 
desertion  and  impeachment  of  his  former  as- 
sociates. In  his  youth,  he  had  translated 
Boethius  De  Consolatione  Philosophic,  a  work 
whiph  had  been  composed  by  the  author,  while 
he  also  was  state  prisoner,  under  the  reign  of 
Theodoric,  king  of  the  Goths.  There  was 
some  resemblance  in  the  fate  of  Chaucer,  to 
that  of  the  illustrious  Roman — a  resemblance 
which  he  seems  to  have  contemplated  with  a 
gloomy  satisfaction. 

The  work  is  divided  into  three  books,  and 
is  conceived  in  allegory.  It  consists  princi- 
pally of  a  dialogue  between  the  Prisoner  and 
Love,  who  visits  him  in  his  cell,  as  Philosophy 
visited  the  prison  of  Boethius,  and  is  chiefly 
interesting,  as  we  are  enabled  to  trace  in  it  the 
anxious  workings  of  the  author*s  feelings  in  re- 

yoL.  I.  H 


98  CHAOCEK, 

gard  to  1^  ttDknown  de$tiny>  and  as  it  exfaibiti 
^  pleasing  proof  of  th«  resources,  he  found, 
within  himself  in  the  midst  of  calamity ;  though 
it  is  by  no  means  remarkable  for  exhibiting  an 
example  of  mind  superior  to  events.  The  stil<r 
is  mystical  jmd  obscure,  conformably  to  the. 
taste  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived.  The  fol- 
lowing specimen  is  taken  from  the. first .book> 
and  is  probably  as  favourable  a  one  as  could  b^ 
given:    . 

Rehearsing  these  things  and  many  other,  without 
time  or  moment  of  rest,  me  seemed  for  anguish  of 
disease,  that  altogether  I  was  ravished,  I  cannot  tell 
how,  but  wholly  all  my  passions  and  feelings  Wfereti 
lost,  as  it  seemed  fer  the  time,  atid  suddenly  a  man>- 
ner  of  dread,  light  in  me  all  at  once,  naught^  such 
fear  as  folk  have  of  an  enemy,  thai  were  mighty^ 
and  would  Aem'  grieve^  or  dooen  hem  disease :  for  t 
frow  this  is  well  know  t0  many  persons,  ^at  othcrwWt 
if^  a  man  h%  in  his  sovereign's  presence,  a  manner  of 
ferdnesse*  creepeth  in  his  heart,  not  for  harm,  but  of 
goodly  subjection:  namely,  as  m^n  readen  that  an- 
gels been  aferdc'"  of  our  Saviour  in  heaven.  And 
fardt  *  there  we  is,  ne  may  no  passion  of  disease  be^ 
but  it  is  to  mean  that  angels  been  adradde''^  not  by 

"not.         *them.        3  if  at  any' time,    tfiter,  dread,     'airaiil. 

^  ptfhaps.    7  afhudi 


friei^4^  of  <kead>  sithen  they  ^eea  perfectly  Uessed,  as 
afl^ctipn  Qf  wonderfylnessj  and  by  service  of  obedience; 
such  ferde '  also  han  these  lovers  in  presence  of  their 
Ipyes,  an<j  subjects^  (^onne*  their  sovereigns.  Right 
so  with  fjerdnes^y  mine  heart  was  caught.  And  I 
Audqenly  astonied*  there  entered  into  the  place 
/Aere^I  waslodged,  a  lady,  the  ieanliche^  and  most  i 
gpodly  to  my  sight,  that  ever  toforne  ^  appeared  to 
any  creature ;  and  truly  in  the  bhtstciing  of  her 
Ipok^  she  cave  gladness  and  comfort  sudidenly  to  all 
my  wits;  and  right  so  she  doeth  to  every  wight 
that  cometh  in  her  presence.  And  for  she  was  so 
goodly  ^as  methouj^t)  mine  heait  beaan  some  deal 
to  be  embolded,  and  next  a  little  h&rdy  to  speak ; 
Put  yet  with  a  quaking  voice,  as  I  durst,  I  salued 
her,  and  enquired  what  she  was^  and  why  she,  so 
worthy  to  sight,  deigned  to  enter  into  so  foul  a  dun* 
geon,  and  namely  a  prison,  without  leave  of  my 
keepers.  For  certes'^^  although  the  virtue  of  deeds  of 
mercy,  stretchen  to  visiten'the  poor  prisoners,  and 
hem  after  that  faculties  been  had  to  comfort,  m» 
seemed  that  t  was  so  fcrrt  fallen  into  misery  and 
wretched  hid  caitijffhtss*,  that  ine  should  no  precious 
thing  neigh^ ;  and  also  that  for  sorrow  every  wight 
should  been  heavy,  and  wish  my  recovery. 

>  feat,     '^before.    '    ^astonishedt         *^{^vihtr€* 
s  the  most  betntHhU       •before/    7  certainly'      •  mcaiincM. 
^.       *  -'  ^  tapprbsch. 


100  CHAUClcic. 

But  when  this  la^  had  some  deal  apperceived,  ^s 
well  by  my  words,  as  by  my  cheer,  what  thought 
busied  me  within—with  a  good  womanly  counte- 
Xiahce,  she  said  these  words:  O  my  norie*,  weien^st 
thou  that  my  mariner  be  to  foryet  •  my  friends,  or 
my  servants  ?  Nay,  (quod  she,^  it  is  my  full  intent 
to  visit  and  comfort  alL  miy  friendships  and  allies,  at 
well  in  time  of  perturbation,  as  of  most  property 
of  bliss  r  ill  nie  shall  unkindne^s  never  be  founded. 
And  also  sithen  I  have  so  few  especial  true,  now  in 
these  days,  wherefore  I  may  well  at  more  leisure, 
come  to  hem  that  me  deserven,  and  if  my  coming  may 
in  any  thing  avail,  xoe^e?  well,  -I  wo//*  come  often. 

Now  good  lady  (quod  1,)  that  art  so  fair  on  to  Iook^ 
raining  honey  by  thy  wprds ;  bliss  of  I^aradise  arm^ 
thy  lookings,  joy  and  comfort  are  thy  movings^ 
What  is  thy  name?  How  is  it  that  in  you  is  so 
mokell^  working  virtues  enpigkt''^  9s  me  seemeth,  and 
in  none  othfer  creature,  that  ever  saw  1  with  mmc 
eyen.  My  disciple,  (quod  she,)  me  wondcreth  of  thy 
words,  and  on  tbee,  that  for  a  little  disease  hasybr- 
veten  my  name.  fVost^  thou  not  well  that  I  am 
Love,  that  first  thee  brought  to  thy  service?  O  good 
lady,  (quod  I,)  is  this  worship,  to  thee,  Or  to  thifie  ^- 


.-.-  -  'J 


1  ^siter-chlkU  /forget...     j.^know, 

_  -i     « will,  yj  :   *  aw: .    5     ••.Wfh.  ^  ., 
lni>zed,  tiihereat.-x|rom|)ib|Six«  to  pitch, 
'kooyfcst. 


CHAUCEB  101 

•dlence^  to  come  into  so  foul  a  place?  Farde  some- 
time  tiio*  I  was  in  prosperity,  and  with  foreign  good/ 
ei^volved,  I  had  mpkU  to  doen  to  draw  thee  to  my 
kojsfei^;  and  yet  noany  warnings  thou  madest^  ere 
thou  list  fully  to  grant  thine  home  to  make  at  jny 
dwelling  place.  And  now  thou  comest, goodly  by 
thine  own  vise^  to  comfort  me  with  words,  and  so 
therethrough ,  I  gin  remepber  on  pa83ed  gladiiess. 
Truly,  lady,  I  ne  woty  ^^hether  I  shall  say  welcome  or 
none* ;  tithm  thy  coming  txioU  as  much  do  me  tcne^ 
and  sorro;»r,  as  gladness  and  mirth.  See  why:  for 
that  me .  comforteth  to  think  on  passed  gladness 
that  m^  anoyeth  eft^io  be  in  doing.  Thus  thy  com- 
ing both  gladdeth  and  ^e7teM,and  that  in  cause  of  much 
sorrow.  Lo!  lady,  how  then  I  am  comforted  by 
your  coming!  And  with  that'I  gan  in  tears  to  dis- 
til, and  tenderly  weep.  Now,  certes  (quod  Love,)  I 
see  well  (and  that  me  overthinketh,)  that  wit  in 
.  thee  foileth^  and  aort  in  point  to  doat.  Truly  OlQod 
I,)  that  have  ye  maked,  and  that  ever  wcU  I  me. 
Wottcst  thou  not  well  (quod  she,)  O^eX  evety  shep- 
herd ought  by  reason,  to  seek  his  ^rkeland^  sheep 
that  arne  run  into  wilderne$s,  among  bushes  and 
perils^  and  ^e^t  to  their  pasture  aye^^  bring,  and  ta^^e 
on  hem  privy  busy  ciire  of  keeping?  .  And  t^Jo'  t^c 

*  house        *  advice,  accpcd.        3  no,  not     fpief*      .^oft 

*  scattered.  f  again. 


lOia  chauc'Sr. 


lincunning  sheep  scattered  would  been  lost,  retmihg^ 
to  wilderness,  and  to  deserts  draw,  or  else  w6ul^e& 
put  hemselfio  the  sSvallowirig  wolf;  yet  sliajl  iKp 
shepherd,  t)y  business  and  travail,  so  put  ^im  for^,  , 
•that  he  shall  not  let  hem  be  lost  by  no  way.  A  good 
shepherd  putteth  rather  his  life  to  been  Ibst  for  hig 
sheep. 

But,  ibr  thoti  shalt  hot  xvene*  me,  being  of  worse 
condition,  triily  for  eDcrich  of  iny  folk,  and  for  s^  tho 
that  to  nie  ward,  be  knit  in  any  condition,  I  woU 
rather  die  than  sMffet  Aem  through  error  to  been  «ptfi['. 
For  me  list,  and  it'meliketh,  of  allinihe  ash'epnerdess 
to  heekaped. 


The  Parson's. Tale  concludes  tke  celcbfat«fl 
collectioh  of  '<  The  Caijterbttrjr  Tales/'-^pfb- 
dictions  to  which 'Chaucer  is  J)rimiipally  iii- 
debted  fbr  his  fame  as  a  poet  ftiid  a  schblat. 
The  parson  is  inti'oduced  in  a  very-  apprcipViate 
manner^  inveighing  against  the  Vides  of  the  age; 
whence*  w6  collect  'Some  pai-ticiilars  with  re- 
spect to  its  manners  and  usages. 

Alast  diky  nidf  a'ttlanseeasiniyui^'^ys,  the  sinful  ' 
I  ranning  « think.  3  lost* 


« 


CHAVCBm.  103, 

0^hmh  array  iof  elothiiig,  and  namely,  in  too  much 
superfluity^  or  i^l^e  into  disordinate  scantness. 

As  to  ;the  .^st  ^in  .in  superfluity  of  clothing,  sueb 
,tliat  malLeth  it  «q  dear,  to  the  harm  of  the  people, 
no^*  only  the  cost  ofenbraudering,^  the  disguised  en- 
denting,  or  hairing,  mmding*y  paling,  winding,  or 
bending,  and  iiSemUable  waste  of  cloth  in  vanit}'. 
But  there  is  also  the  co^leitv  fiurring  in  her  gowns, 
joimuch  ipounwtg'^  of  ch^sell^  to  make  holes,  so  much 
'dagging^oi  sheers  forche,  with  the  superfluity  in 
length  of  the  foresaid  ^gownes  trailing  in  the  dung 
and  in  the  mire,  on  horse  ahd  also  on  foot,  as  well  of 
man  as  of  woman.  That  all  that  trafling  is  verily 
as  in  effect  wasted,  consumed,  threadbare,  and  rotten 
with  dung,  rather  than  it  isyevc'  to  the  poor,  to  great 
dommage  of  the  foresaid  poor  folk,  and  that  in  'sun- 
dry wise,  this  is  to  say,  that  the  more  the  cloth  is 
wasted,  the  more  must  it  cost  to  the  poor  people  for 
the  scarceness.  And  moreover,  if  so  be  that;they 
would  yeve  such  pounced  and  dogged  clothing  to  the 
poor  people,  it  is  not  convenient  to  wear  for  her, 
estate,  ne  sufficient  to  iler  necessity,  to  keep  haH 
from  the  distemperance  of  the  Armament.  **♦**♦ 

Now  as  to  the  outrageous  array  of  women,  God 
zvofy  lliat  though  the  visages  of  some  of  hem  seem  full 
chaste  and  debonair,  yet  notify  in  her  array  or  attire, 

costlj.  ^  not.  9  guardipg,  Uke  waves. 

«  punching  with  a  bodkin.        s  chissel,  bodkin. 
^  slitting,  cutting  into  sUpis«  .      ?  giYcn* 


104  CHAXJCElt. 

licoroumess^  axid  pn^.  I  say  not  that  honesty  in 
clothing  of  man  or  woman  is  uncofcenabk*;  but  certa 
the  superfluity  of  disordinate  quantity  of  clothfaig  is 
reprovable.  Also  the  sin  of  ornament  or  of  apparel, 
is  in  things  that  appertain  to  riding,  as  in  company, 
delicate  horses  that  ben  holden  for  delight,  that  been 
so  fair,  fat  and  costlewty  and  also  in  many  a  nice, 
knave*  that  is  sustained  because  of  hem^  in  curious 
harness,  as  in  saddle,  cruppers,  peitrels\  and  bridles, 
covered  with  precious  clothing,  and  rich  bars  of 
plates  of  gold  and  of  silver.*  For  which  God  saith  by 
Zacharie,  the  prophet,  I  woU  confound  the  riders  of 
such  horses.  Those  folk  take  little  regard  of  the  riding  of 
God's  Son  of  heaven,  and  of  his  harness,  when  he  rode 
Upon  the  ass,  and  had  none  other  harness  but  the 
poor  clothes  of  his  disciples ;  ne  we  read  not  that 
ever  he  rode  on  other  beast.  I  ,speak  this  for  the 
sin  of  superfluity,  and  not  for  reasonable  honesty, 
when  reason  it  requireth.  «*♦•♦• 

Pride  of  the  table  appeareth  also  fviiloft:  for  certeBf 
rich  men  be  called  tp  feasts,  and  poor  folk  been  put 
away,  and  rebuked.  And  also  in  excess  of  divers 
meats  and  drinks,  and  namely  such  manner  bake 
meats  and  dish  meats,  brenning^  of  wild  fire :  painted 
and  castled  with  paper,  and  semblable  waste,  so  that 

I  licorishness.  *  unbecoming. 

9  a  nude,  a  servant,  a  lacquey.        *  breast-plates  for  hones. 

sboming. 


CHAt7CB|e.  105 

it  is  abusion  to  think.  And  also  into  great  preci- 
oiisness  of  vessels,  and  curiosity  of  minstrelsy)  by 
which  a/  man  is  stirred  motfi  to  deHces^  of  lechery; 
if  80  be  ^at  he  set  his  h^art  the  less  upon  our 
Lord  Jesu  ChH^t,  certaiidy  it  is  a  9in.  And  c^- 
tainly  the  delicet  might  be  so  great  in  this  case,  that 
a  n^m  might  lightly  fall  by  kem  into  a  deadly  sin.  . 


I  think  it  needless  to  give  any  extract  from 
the  ''  Conclusions  of  the  Astrolabie/'  as  there 
can  obviously  be  little  to  interest  the  general 
reader  in  directions  for  the  application  of  an  as- 
tronomical instrument.  It  was  drawn  up  for 
the  benefit  of"  little  Louis,"  his  son,  a  youth  of 
ten  years  of  age. 

Caxton  stiles  Chaucer  ''  the  worshipful  fa- 
ther and  first  founder  and  embellisher  of  ornate 
eloquence  in  our  English."  And  Mi*.  Godwin 
observes,  that  ''  he  fixed  and  naturalized  the 
genuine  art  of  poetry  in  our  island.  But  what 
(says  he,)  is  most  memorable  in  his  eulogy,  i^^ 
that  he  is  the  father  of  our  language,  the  idiom 
of  which  was,  by  the  Norman  conquest,  ba? 

-•  >  ddights. 


I 

« 


wished  jftcHS^:  courts  and  civilbsed  U&>  «nd 
^hich  GfaftiucriM:  wastiie  ficst  to  r^tore  to  liEtev 
'.Tfftare  kad  tbe  ^cmnses.  No  ione  numi  itithe 
iiistory  of  human  iiitellect^^ter  did  tiiore  than 
-wds  effected  by  the  single  toind  of  C5haufeer.'* 
And  agaiii :  '*  MaftdevlUe,  Widiffe,  andGower, 
whom  weihay  style  the  other  three  evangelists 
of  our  tongue,  though  all  elder  in  birth  than 
Chaucer,  did  not  begin  so  early  to  work  upon 
the  ore  of  their  native  language.  He  surprised 
his  countrymen  with  a  poem  eminently  idio- 
toatic^;  clear,  and  persflicuous  in  its  style,  at 
well  as  rich  and  harmonious  in  its  versifica- 
ition." 

The  principal  foreign  source  whence  dhau* 
cer  derived  his  materials  for  the  improvement 
of  his  native  tongue,  was  the  Provencal,  or 
Provencial,  in  his  time  the  niost, polished  lan- 
guage of  Etirope.  From  his  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  romantic  literature  of  the  Pro- 
Yencidl  poets,  he  was  enabled  to  transfuse  into 
his  own  vemactilar  dialect  their  terms  and 
phrases.  It  is  thus  that  all  languages  are  at 
first  nourished  and  brought  to  maturity.  In 
the  infancy  of  language  and  of  literature  in  any 
lcountry,thit  is,  before  nations  are  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  methods  and  habits  of  thia]c. 


CHAVCim. 


107 


ing^  writers  can  in  no  way  perhaps  be  so  pro« 
fitably  employed^  as  in  translation ;  or  inbor« 
rowing  and  naturalizing  the  ideas  of  more 
learned  and  polished  nations^  by  which  the 
general  progress  of  improven\ent  is  rendered 
more  easy  and  more  rapid.  But  the  writings 
and  genius  of  Chaucer^  with  the  obligations 
which  our  language  and  Uterature  owe  to  him, 
have  been  so  fully  illustrated,  by  Mr.  Tyrwhit, 
in  his  edition  of  the  *^  Canterbury  Tales/'  and 
more  recently  by  Mr.  Godwin^  as  to  render  it 
superfluous  for  me  to  dwell  longer  upon  his 
lurticle  in  this  place. 


y 


f 


-       I     .J^ 


:v  ■  I     ^  ; 


i 


K  ,    !   f    '•    .  . 


t  • , 


I      ! 


J^.  ■ 


I 


'.:     :..   j>-:  >      'J'v      I.   i   VJ 


'    ■     '        <    <     V    .    >  * 


:^:A  -.  fi 


i ! '  .'  . 


f ; :     i,-  ^  ■  : } ;  '  ♦ 


:i  ' 


■  J-  ."'    .. '. i  l^i  •  >','     1 , 


In  the  reigns  of  Henry  IF.  and  V.  which  in" 
tervene  between  those  of  Richard  tl.  and  Henry 
VI.  I  have  not  found  any  Kterary  prodiution  of 
sufficient  importance  to  induce  me  to  preserve  the 
continuity  in  the  succession  of  British  Monarch. 
The  author  treated  of  in  the  following  article, 
had  begun,  indeed,  to  flourish  in  both  of  those 
reigns ;  but  as  the  date  of  the  production^  whence 
my  selections  are  taken,  is  later,  he  is  more  pro-' 
yperly  arranged,  where  he  tc  now  found. 


^enrp  vi. 


(     113    ) 


REYNOLD  PECOCK. 


This  prelate  is  said  to  have  been  bom  some<» 
where  in  Wales,  which,  however,  is  inferred 
only  from  the  circumstance  of  his  having  been 
a  presbyter  of  the  diocese  of  St.  David's.  Of 
his  parentage,  as  well  as  of  the  exact  place  and 
time  of  his  birth,  we  are  ignorant ;  but  as  he  is 
supposed  to  have  died  about  the  year  1460,  at 
the  age  of  70,  his  birth  will  fall  about  the  year 
1390* 

He  was  educated  at  Oriel  College,  Oxford, 
where  he  particularly  applied  himself  to  rhe-» 
toric  and  moral  philosophy,  though  it  is  said, 
chiefly  with  the  view  of  rendering  them  subser- 
vient to  the  study  of  theology.  He  became 
fellow  of  Oriel,  in  1417,  and  in  1420,  was  or- 
dained deacon  and  priest.  In  1425,  he  took 
his  batchelor's  degree,  and  quitted  the  univer- 
sity.,  His  reputation  for  learning  and  elo- 
;quence,  now  recommended  him  to  the  notice 
of  Humphry,  duke  of  Gloucester,  then  pro- 
tector of  the  kingdom,  who  invited  him  to; 

VOL,  I.  1 


114  PECOCK. 

> 

court ;  in  >vluch  situation,  he  added  greatly  to 
his  fortunes  and  consideration^  In  143 1,  he 
was  made  master  of  the  college  of  St.  Spirit 
and  St;  Mary,  in  London,  founded  a  little  be- 
'  fore  by  sir  Richard  Whitington. 

About  this  time  he  commenced  his  exami- 
nation of  the  celebrated  controversy  between 
the  Cathotics  and  LoUards,  which  occupied  the 
larger  portion  of  his  time  and  talents,  for  the 
spuce  ofgOyears.  In  1444,  he  was  promoted 
to  tlie  bishopric  of  St.  Asaph,  and  took  his  de- 
gree, pf  doctor  of  divinity.  From  St.  Asapli,  he 
was  translated,  in  1449>  to  the  bishopric  of 
Chichester. 

In  the  period  in'  which  Pecock  lived,  the 
dispute  between  the  papists  and  Wicliffites 
ran  high,  concerning  the  superior  antiquity  of 
their  respective  tenets ;  as  well  as  on  various 
other  points  of  doctrine.  Wicliife,  as  we  have 
seen,  was  a  powerful  antagonist  to  popish  su- 
perstition. Pecock,  though  a  sincere  advo- 
cate of  popery,  discovered  on  all  occasions  a 
wish  to  acconunodate.  He  was  a  candid  and 
moderate,  and  at  the  same  time  an  able  oppo- 
nent of  the  Wicliffites,  whom  he  zealously  en- 
deavoured to  reconcile  to  the  catholic  church ; 
and  strange  as  it  may  appear,  he  had  the  hope 


PECOCK.  115 

afbeingableto  accomplishthis  by  bringing  the 
points  in  dispute  to  the  test  of  reason.  With 
thi»  view,  he  found  himself  under  the  necessity 
of  making  many  important  concessions.'  In 
particular,  he  allowed,  that  priests  were  falli- 
ble men ;  and  consequently,  might  be  mis-* 
taken.  But  the  shibboleth  of  a  true  church- 
man, in  those  times,  was,  his  insisting  oh  the 
authority  of  the  church,  and  the  infallibility  of 
itis  decisions.  Hence,  those  concessions,  in- 
stead of  being  ratified  by  the  catholics,  excited 
their  implacable  rancour.  For  his  attempt  to 
reclaim  dissenters,  he  was  represented  as  en- 
couraging them ;  was  reproached  as  a  heretic, 
sHid  treated  as  an  enemy  to  that  church,  which 
he  sincerely  and  strenuously  laboured  to  de- 
fends Unfortunately,  the  good  bishop  wanted 
finnness;  and  he  was  terrified  by  persecution, 
into  a  dishonourable  abjuration  of  those  opi- 
nions, which  he  believed  to  be  true.  But  the 
machinations  of  his  enemies  did  not  end  here. 
In  1458,  he  was  deprived  of  his  bishopric,  and 
confined  in  the  abbey  of  Thorney,  in  the  isle  of 
Thorney,  in  Cambridgeshire,  and  denied  the 
use  of  pen,  ink,  and  paper ;  and  of  all  books, 
except  a  Bible,  and  a  few  books  of  devotion, 

12 


116  FECOCK. 

In  this  situatiou  he  wasted  the  inconsiderable 
remnant  of  his  life. 

Since,  accprding  to  the  bishop's  own  ac- 
count, he  spent  more  tha^  twenty  years  in 
writing  controversial  books  against  the  Lol- 
lards^ his  publications  are  too  numerous  to 
admit  even  of  a  catalogue  in  this  place.  Those 
who  have  the  curiosity  to  know  their  titles, 
with  a  concise  account  of  each,  may  consult 
his  Life,  written  by  Lewis,  chap.  7.  He  wrote 
many  volumes,  both  in  Latin  and  English. 
No  less  than  fourteen,  three  in  folio,  and  ele- 
ven in  quarto,  were  burnt  at  St.  Paul's,  as  con- 
taining heretical  doctrines.  I  shall  make  par- 
ticular mention  only  of  two ;  from  the  first  of 
which  I  shall  select  my  extracts.  This  book, 
entitled  "  The  Repressor,"  contains  a  defence 
of  the  catholic  clergy,  against  the  objections 
of  the  Wicliffites,  and  was  pul)lished  in  1449. 
The  plan  of  it  shall  be  given  in  the  bishop's  own 
words : 

I  shall  (says  he,)  justify  eleven  govemafifies  of 
the  clergy,  which  some  of  the  common  people  un- 
wisely and  untruely  judgen  and  condemnen  to  be 
evil.  Of  which  eleven  govemancies,  one  is,  the 
having  and  using  of  images  in  churches ;  and  anp- 


PECOCK.     .  117 

ther  is,  pilgrimage  in  going  to  the  memorials,  or  the 
tnind-places  of  saints,  and  that  pilgrimages  and  of- 
ferings mowe^  be  done  well,  not  only  so  of  laymen, 
but  rather  of  priests  and  of  bishops.  And  this  shall 
I  do  by  writing  of  this  present  book  in  the  common 
people's  language,  plainly  and  openly  and  shortly,  and 
to  be  d^d  "The  Repressing,"  &c.  And  he  shall 
have  five  principal  parts.  In  the  first  of  which 
parts  shall  be  made,  in  general  manner,  the  said  re- 
pressing; and  in  general- manner  proof  to  the  eleven 
said  governancies^  And  in  the  ii.  iii.  iv.  and  v. 
parts,  shall  be  made,  in  special  mannefi  the  said 
repressing,  and  in  special  manner  the  proof  of  the 
same  eleven  governancies. 


S9SSI 


In  the  first  part  of  this  work,  he  attacks  the 
main  principle  of  the  Over-blamers,  or,  as  he 
afterwards  calls  them,  the  Bible-men,  "  which 
holden  them  so  wise  by  the  Bible  aloiie.''  Ac- 
cording to  the  bishop,  some  of  these  main- 
tained that  "  no  governance  is  to  be  holden 
of  christian  men,  the  service  or  the  law  of 
God,  save  it  which  is  grounded  in  holy  scrip- 
ture of  the  New  Testament.*'  Whereas,  others 
of  them  affirmed  that  "  no  governance  is  to  be 

1  may. 


IIS  PECOCK. 

held  or  accounted  of  Christioa  m^n^  the  service 
or  the  law  of  God>  save  it  which  is  grounded  in 
the  New  Testament,  or  in  the  Old,  and  is  not 
by  the  New  Testament  revoked,"  The  Bible- 
men  carried  their  notions  of  the  sufficiency  of 
the  scriptures  to  an  extravagant  height,  from 
their  opposition  to  the.Romanists^  who  asserted 
that  the  authority  of  the  church  is  equal  to 
that  of  sacred  writ.  The  followers  of  Wic- 
liflfe  had  allowed  '^  that  men  might  accept 
man*s  law  and  ordinancies  when  they  were 
grounded  in  holy  scripture  or  good  reason^  ,ot 
were  for  the  common  profit  of  Christian  peo- 
ple." The  bishop  contends,  and  indeed  with 
great  reason,  that  the  Bible-men,  in  departing 
Irom  that  principle,  hq^d  run  into  a  dangerous 
error.    His  own  words  are : 

First,  It  Iqngeth^  not  to  holy  scripture,  neither  it 
is  las  oifice  into  which  God  hath  him  ordaiiied,  nei- 
ther it  is  kk  part  for  to  ground  any  governapce  or 
deed,  or  service  of  Ood,  or  any  law  of  God,  or  any 
truth  which  man's  reason  by  nature  may  find,  leaxn, 
and  know. 

1.  Scripture  (he  contends^  does  not  contain  all 
that  is  necessary  for  th^  grounding  of  moral  virtues, 
^nd  therefore  is  not  properly  the  foundation  on  which 

'  bdongedi. 


ptcock.  119 

tliey  stand.  There  may  nothing  "be  fundament  or 
ground  of  a  wall,  or  of  a  tree,  or  of  an  hoase,  save 
it  upon  which  the  all  whole  substance  of  the  wall, 
or  of  the  tree,  or  of  the  house  standeth,  and  out  of 
which  only  the  wall,  tree,  or  house  cometh. 

2.  All  the  learning  and  knowing  which  holy  scrip- 
ture giveth  upon  any  beforesaid  governance,  deed,  or 
truth  of  God's  moral  law,  may  be  had  by  doom^  of 
natural  reason,  g^e*  though  holy  writ  had  not  spoken 
thereof,  &c. 

3.  The  moral  law,  or  judgment  of  natural  reason 
was,  when  neither  of  the  New,  neither  of  the  Old 
Testament  the  writing  wa^,  and  that/ro  the  time  of 
Adam,  &c» 

4.  For  he  [the  scripture]  biddeth  a  man  to  be 
meek,  and  he  teacheth  not  before  what  meekness  is  i 
he  biddeth  a  mah  to  be  patient,  and  yet  he  not  be- 
fore teacheth  what  patience  is ;  and  so  forth  of  each 
virtue  of  God's  law.  Wherefore,  no  such  said  govern- 
ance or  virtue  or  truth,  is  to  be  said  grounded  in  holy 
scripture,  no  more  than  it  ought  be  said  if  a  bishop 
would  send  a  pistle  or  a  letter  to  people  of  his  diocese, 

and  therein  would  remember  heniy  exhort  hc?72,  and  stir 

• 

hemy  and  bid  'hem^  or  counsel  hemy  for  to  keep  cer- 
tain  moral  virtues,  &c. 


The  conclusion  of  his  fifth  argument  is  cu- 

ijudgmenti  decision.  *yca. 


120  ?XCOC«t 

rious^  from  its  description  of  aa  old  cBstom  in 
the  city  of  London^  on  Midsummer-eve,  preva- 
y^ent  in  the  bishop's  timet 

5.  Say  to  me,  goodsir^  and  answer  hereto  ;^hen  men 
pf  the  country  upland  bringen  into  London  in  Myd« 
summer-eve*,  branches  of  trees ^ro  Bishop's  Wood, 
and  flowers^othe  field,  and  betaken  tho  to  citizens 
of  London,  for  to  therewith  array  her  hpuses,  shoul- 
den  men  of  London  receiving  and  taking  tho  branches 
and  flowers,  say  and  hold  that  ^ito  branches  grewen 
ont  of  the  carts  which  broughten  hem  to  London, 
and  that  tho  carts,  or  the  hands  of  the  bringers, 
weren  grounds  and  fundaments  of  tho  branches  and 
flowers  ?  God  forbid  sa  UUle  wit  be  in  her  heads. 
Certe&y  thougfa,  Christ  and  his  apostles  weren  now  liv- 
ing at  London,  and  would  bring  so  as  is  now  said 
brapches/ro  Bishop's  .Wood,  and  flowers/ro  the  fields 
into  Ix)ndon,  and  woulden  hem  deliver  to  men,  that 
they  make  therewith  he^  hpuses  gay,  into  remem* 
brance  pf  St  Johp  Baptist,  and  of  this  that  it  was 
prophccied  of  him,  that  mapy  shoulden  joy  in  his 
t)irth ;  yet  though  men  of  London,  receiving  so  tho 
branches  and  flowers,  oughten  npt  say  and  feel,  that 

♦  At  this  period,  on  Midsummer  night,  a  watch  was  kept  in 
london,  on  purpose  to  prevent  the  disorders  of  the  rabble ;  and 
was  discontinued  by  the  aoth  of  Henry  VIII.  and  thccuatoin 
|ibolished.«-'Ha2rs  Chro.  foUisi. 


PECOCK.  121, 

iho  branclies  and  flowers  grewen  out  of  Christ's 
bands — tho  branches  greweft  ^out  of  the  boughs 
upon  which  they  in  Bishop's  Wood  atooden,  and  tko 
boughs  grewen  out  of  stocks  or  trunchpns,  and  the 
trunchons  or  shafts  grewen  out  of  the  root,  and  the 
TOot  out  of  the  ne?(t  earth  thereto,  upon  which  and 
in  which  the  root  is  buried.  So  that  neither  the 
cart,  neither  the -hands  of  the  bringers,  •  neither 
tho  bringers  ben  the  grounds  or  fundaments  of  tho 
branches. 

6.  The  second  principal  conclusion  and  Iruth  Is 
this :— Though  it  pertain  not  to  holy  scripture,  for  to 
ground  any  natural  or  moral  governance  of  truth, 
into  whose  finding,  learning,  and  knowing,  man's 
reason  may  by  himself  and  by  natural  help  come,  as 
it  is  open  now  before;  yet  it  may  pertain  well 
enough  to  holy  scripture,  that  he  reherse  such  now 

'  said  governancies  and  truths,  and  that  ha  witne^ 
hem  eui  grounded  somewhere  elst^  in  the  law  of 
Aww?*,  or  dowfi^  of  man's  reason, 

7.  The  third  principal  conclusion  is  this  :— The 
vi^hole  office  and  work  into  which  God  ordained  holy 
scripture,  is  for  to  ground  articles  of  faith,  and  for  to 
reherse  and  witness  moral  truths  of  law  of  khidy 
grounded  in  moral  philosophy;  that  is  to  say,  in 
doo7n  of  reason,  that  the   readers  be   remembered, 

*  pithjpf.  ^  nstwrCf  '  judgment. 


12^  PECOCK. 

stirred^  and  exhorted  by  so  mche^  the  better,  and  the 
Uidre,  and  the  sooner  for  to  fulfil  them.  Of  whick 
articles  of  finth,  some  ben  not  laws ;  as  these — that 
God  made  heaven  and  earth  in  the  beginning  of  time ; 
and  that  Adam  was  the  first  man,  and  Eve  was  the 
first  woman ;  and  that  Moses  lad  the  people  of  Is- 
rael out  of  Egypt ;  and  that  Zacharia  was  father,  and 
Elizabeth  was  mother  of  John  Baptist ;  and  that 
Christ  fasted  forty  days ;  and  so  forth  of  many  like. 
And  some  other  ben  laws ;  as  that  each  man  ought 
be  baptized  in  water,  if  he  may  come  thereto ;  and 
that  each  man  ought  to  be  hosUed^  if  he  may  come 
thereto.    . 

8.  The  fourth  principal  conclusion : — It  is  not  the 
oiBce  longing  to  moral  law  of  Idndy  for  to  ground  any 
article  of  faith,  grounded  by  holy  scripture.  For 
why  ? — all  that  the  now  said  moral  law  of  kindy  or  mo- 
ral  philosophy,  groundeth,  is  grounded  by  doom  of 
man's  reason ;  an4  therefore  is  such  a  truth  and  a 
conclusion,  that  in  his  finding,  learning,  and  know- 
ing, man's  wit  may,  by  itself  alone,  or  by  natural 
helps,  without  revdation  fro  God,  rise  and  suffice. 

<).  The  fifth  principal  conclusion : — ^Though  neither 
the  said  moral  law  of  kindf  neither  outward  books 
thereof  written,  moxce  ground  any  truth  or  conclusion 

'  much*  2  hailed,  receive  the  Lord'6  supper. 


FECOCK.  123 

of  very  faith;  git^  tJto  outward  books,  ai»  Christian 
men  hem  niaken,  nunoe  well  ynow,  reherse,  and  wit- 
ness truths  and  conclusions  of  faith,  grounded  before 
in  holy  scripture.  For  why  ? — it  is  no  more  repng- 
nant,  that  books  of  moral  philosophy  reherse  truths 
imd  conclusions  proper  to  the  grounding  of  holy  scrip- 
ture, than  that  books  of  holy  scripture  reherse 
truths  and  conclusions  proper  to  the  grounding  of 
moral  philoaophy^ 

IQ.  The  sixth  principal  conclusion : — The  whole 
office  and  work  into  which  bm  ordained  the  books  of 
moral  philosophy,  writteii  and  made  by  Christian 
men,  in  the  manner  now  before  spoken,  is  to  ex- 
press outwardly,  by  Virtue  of  pen  and  ink,  the  truths 
lind  conclusions  which  the  inward  book  of  law  of 
^W,  buried  in  man's  soul  and  heart,  groundcth ;  and 
for  to  reherse  some  truths  and  conclusions  of  faith 
longing  to  the  grounding  of  holy  scripture,  that  the 
readers  be  the  more  and  the  ofter  remembered,  and 
stirred,  and  exhorted  by  this  rehersing,  &c. 

11.  The  seventh  principal  conclusion  i-r^The  more 
*  deal  and^flr^y*  of  God's  whole  law  to  man  in  earth, 
and  that  by  an  huge  great  quantity  over  the  rema- 
nent parts  of  the  same  law,  is  grounded  sufficient!}', 
out  of  holy  scripture,  in  the  inward  book  of  law  of 
kindf  and  of  moral  philosophy,  and  not  in  the  book 
of  holy  scripture* 

»yct  •part. 


/ 

124  PECOCK. 

12.  The  eighth  principal  eonclusion : — ^No  man 
may  learn  and  kunne  the  whole  law  of  God,  to  which 
Christian  men  hen  bound,  but  if  he  can  of  moral  phi- 
losophy ;  and  the  more  that  he  can  in  moral  philosor 
phy,  by  so  much  the  more  he  can  of  God's  law  and 
service-  This  conclusion  followeth  out  of  the  seventh 
conclusion  openly  enough.  ^ 

13.  The  ninth  conclusion: — No  man  shoulden 
perfectly,  surely,  and  sufficiently  understand  holy 
scripture  in  all  tho  places  wherein  ke  reherseth  mo- 
ral virtues  ;  but  if  he  he  before  well,  and  perfectly, 
•surely,  and  sufficiently  learned  in  moral  philosophy. 
This  conclusion  followeth  out  of  the  seventh  and  the 
ejght  conclusions. 

14.  The  tenth  conclusion :— ^The  learning  and 
hmning  of  the  said  law  of  kind,  and  of  the  said  mo- 
ral, philosophy,    is  so  necessary  to  Christian  men, 

'  that  it  may  not  be  lacked  of  them  if  they  shoulden 
perfectly  serve  to  God,  and  keep  his  IsLVf  bitake^  to 
^efnin  earth. 

15.  The  eleventh  conclusion :— Full  well  oughten 
all  persons  of  the  lay-party,  not  miche  learned  in  mo-' 
ral  philosophy  and  law  of  kindy  for  to  make  micb^  of 
clerks  well  learned  in  moral  philosophy,  that  tho 
clerks  shoulden  help  tho  lay  persons,  for  to  aright 
understand  holy  scripture  in  all  tho  places  in  whiclr 
holy  scripture  reherselh  the  before-spoken  conclu- 

» delivered. 


P£COCK,  125 

sions  and  truths  of  moral  philosophy  ;  that  is  to  say, 
of  law  of  kind.  For  why  ^— without  tho  clcrk«  so 
learned  in  mo^  philosophy,  and  without  her  direc- 
tion, the  now  said  lay  persons  shoulden  not  easily, 
'lightly  and  anon,  have  the  due  understanding  of  holy 
scripture  in  the  now  said  places. 

16.  The  twelfth  conclusion -.—Full  well  oughten 
all  persons    of  the  lay-party,  not  learned  onywhert 
else^  by  the  now  said  clerks,  or  by  other  books  of 
moral  philosophy,  lor  to  make  tnich  of  books  made 
to  hem  in  %€r  naother'i?  language,  which  be  dtp^ 
thus  :    The  Donet*  into  Christian  Religion  i^^The  Fol- 
lower to  the  Donet ; — The  Book  of  Christian  ReUgiorif 
namely,  the  first  party  fro  the  beginning  of  l^e  third 
treaty  forward  ;-^The  Book  filling  the  Four  Tables ; — The 
fook  of  Worshipping  ;'^The  book  cleped  The  Provoker 
of  Christian  Men  ;*^The  Book  of  Counsels ;  and  oth^ 
mo  pertaining  to  the  now  said  book  of  Christian  Re- 
ligion.— Would  .God,  men  woulden  not  be  by  so  mick 
the  forwarder,  and  the  more  presumptuous,  that 
goodness   is  to  hem  thus  proferre^.      Would   God, 
that  they  woulden  assay  perfectly  wh^t  tho  now  said 
hooks  ben  ;  arid  woulden  well  kunne  hem,  and  then  if 
they  should  have  any  cause  for  to  blame  or  com- 
mend those  books,  that  then  first,  they  would  blame 
or  commend. 

17,  The  thirteenth  conclusion  : — They  that  would 

>  cither.  ^  Donet  itn)>Ue»  imrodUctioci/ 


126  TECOCK* 

ask  and  gay  tkus— f*  Where  findest  thou  it  grounded 
in  holy  scripture Y*  As  tho*  else  it  is  not  myrthly^  to 
be  take  for  true,  whenever  any  governance^  or 
truth,  sufficiently  grounded  in  law  of  kmdy  and  in 
moral  philosophy,  is  affirmed  and  ministered  to  ' 
them;  as  ben  many  of  tko  eleven  govemancies  and 
truths,  which-  schullen  be  treated  upon  after,  in  this 
present  book;  which  hen  setting  up  of  images  in 
high  places  of  the  bodily  church  5  pilgrimages  done 
prively,  and  pilgrimages  done  openly,  by  laymen, 
and  by  priests,  and  by  bishops,  unto  the  ^nemo* 
rials,  or  mind-places  of  saints ;  and  the  endowing  of 
pjiests  by  rents  and  by  unmoveable  possessions,  and 
jruch  other,  Asken  tho  whilst^  in  like  manner  un- 
reasonably,  and  like  unskilfully,  and  like  reprova- 
bly,  as  if  they  would  ask  and  say  thus:  "Whera 
findest  thou  it  grounded  in  holy  scripture,  when  a 
truth  a^d  conclusion  of  grammar  ia  affirmed,  and  said 
to  them,*'  &c. 

Tlie  language  in  which  this  last  conclusion  is 
expressed,  being  involved,  the  sentiment  in- 
tended to  be  conveyed,  is  somewhat  obscure* 
He  means  to  say,  that  to  expect  the  authority 
of  scripture  for  all  moral  truths  (which  species 
of  truths    is    discoverable  by  reason,)  were 

>  worthy.        «  They  wk  at  the  same  time. 


*I»ECOCK.-  127 

equally  absurd,  as  to  expect  a  revelation  to 
establish  the  rules  of  grainman 


a-^ 


It  is  remarkable,  that  in  the  foregoing  Con-* 
elusions  of  bishop  Pecock,  a  cast  of  thought 
is  perceivable  similar  to  that  which  pervades 
the  Ecclesiastical  Polity  of  Hooker,  as  will  be 
seen  when  we  come  to  treat  of  that  celebrated 

« 

book. 

The  other  work  I  proposed  to  speak  of  is  his 
^Treatise  of  Faith,"  which  is  a  dialogue  be- 
tween a  father  and  his  son,  divided  into  two 
books;  of  which  the  first  professes  to  treat  of 
the  most  probable  means  of  gaining  over  the 
Lollards  to  the  church ;  which  he  affirms  to  be 
an  entire  submission  of  their  judgment  to  the 
decrees  of  the  church,  though  supposed  felli- 
ble ;  unless  they  could  demonstrate  such  de» 
crees  to  be  founded  in  error.  This  book  con- 
tains, perhaps,  a  still  fuller  developement  of  his 
religious  opinions.  In  a  long  digression,  he 
discusses  the  foundations  of  our  faith ;  and  al- 
lows that  faith  in  this  life,  is  only  probable,  of 
opinionaly  not  scieiitial;  which,  he  says,  is  to 
be  obtained  only  in  the  bliss  of  heaven  ;  and 


128  '  TtcocK, 

that  the  truth  of  the  Christian  rehgion  is  not 
to  be  proved  by  demonstrative^  but  only  by 
probahle  arguments.  The  book  abounds  in 
scholastic  learning  and  logical  subtleties,  in  both 
of  which  our  author  was  a  great  proficients 

Reynold  Pecock  was  evidently  a  man  of 
strong  parts,  and  of  learning  far  superior  to 
those  of  his  time.  He  was  not  oilly  skilled  in 
all  the  subtleties  of  the  logic  and  divinity  of  the 
schoolmen,  but  had  studied  with  deep  atten- 
tion the  law  of  nature  and  nations.  He  was  at 
once  ^cute  and  eloquent.  But  his  talents  were 
vnhappily  engaged  in  the  hopeless  attempt  to 
defend  the  absurd  doctrines  and  usages  of  the 
church  of  Rome,  on  the  principles  of  reason. 
To  his  praise,  however^  be  it  said,  that  he  al- 
ways conducted  his  opposition  with  great  mo- 
deration and  candour.  He  patiently  listened 
to  the  arguments  of  his  antagonists,' without 
replying  to  them,  as  was  the  custom  with  the 
rest  of  his  order,  with  insult  and  outrage.  This 
gentleness  and  forbearance  towards  heretics, 
(even  more  than  his  heretical  opinions,)  wefe 
tlie  cause  of  his  persecution.  The  following 
short  prayer,  composed  by'himself  in  English, 
as  it  exhibits  a  picture  of  the  benignity  and 
candour  of  bis  mind,  deserves  to  be  transcribed; 


PBC0CK4  129 

O  thou  Lord  Jesu)  God  and  man,  head  of  thy 
Christian  church,  and  teacher  of- Christian  belief,  I 
beseech  thy  mercy,  thy  pity,  and  thy  charity ;  far 
be  this  said  peril  [of  implicit  faith]  from  the  Chris- 
tian church,  and  from  each  person  therein  contain- 
ed; and  shield  thou,  that  this  venom  be  never 
brought  into  thy  church  ;  and  if  thou  suffer  it  to  be 
any  vthile  brought  in,  I  beseech  thee,  that  it  be 
soon  agiain  outspit ;  but  suffer  thou,  ordain,  and  do, 
that  the  law  and  the  faith,  which  thy  chosen  at  any 
time  keepeth,  be  received  and  admitted  to  fall  under 
this  cxaminatioii — whether  it  be  the  same  very  faith 
which  those  of  thine  apostles  taught  or  no,  and  whe- 
ther it  hath  sufficient  evidences  for  it  to  be  very  faith 
or  no. 


VOL.  !• 


(     180    ) 


SIR  JOHN  FORTESCUE. 

An  eminent  lawyer  and  statesman,  was  de- 
scended from  an  ancient  family  in  Devonshire, 
but  neither  the  time  nor  place  of  his  birth  is 
precisely  known.  He  is  supposed  to  have 
been  educated  at  Oxford,  and  bishop  Janner 
affirms  him  to  have  been  of  Exeter  College, 
though  these  circumstances  are  also  imcer- 
tain.  That  he  was  a  student  of  Lincoln*s  Inn, 
however,  is  a  fact  better  authenticated  :  for  it 
is  well  known  that  he  distinguished  himself 
there  by  his  knowledge  of  the  civil  and  com- 
mon law. 

In  the  fourth  year  of  Henry  VI.  or  in  1426, 
he  was  made  one  of  the  governors  of  Lincoln's 
Inn,  which  honour  was  conferred  upon  him,  a 
second  time,  three  years  after.  In  1430,  he 
was  made  a  serjeant  at  law ;  in  1441,  a  king's 
Serjeant  at  law ;  and  the  year  after,  chief  jus- 
tice of  the  king's  bench.  This  office  he  held 
through  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  to  whom  he 
steadily  adhered  in  all  his  misfortunes.   ^Ji^ 


consequence  of  this  attachment^  in  the  first 
parliament  under  Edward  IV.  which  began  ^t 
Westminster,  on  the  4th  of  November,  1461, 
he  was  attainted  of  high  treason,  by  the  same 
lict  which  likewise  ordered  the  attainder  of 
Henry  VI.  queen  Margaret>  and  Edward,  their 
son,  with  a  number  of  other  persons  of  distino^ 
tionv  On  the  flight  of  Henry  into  Scotland,  it 
is  genially  believed,  that  he  created.Fortescue 
chancellor  of  England ;  and  the  latter,  in  bis 
book  De  Laudibus  Legum  Angli<c,  stiles  him* 
«elf  Cancellarius  AngluR. 

In  the  April  of  1463>  he  fled  to  Flanders,  in 
company  with  queen  Margaret,  prince  Ed- 
ward, and  other  persons  of  rank,  who  followed 
the  fortunes  of  the  house  of  Lancaster.  He 
continued  exiled  from  his  country  during  many 
years>  moving  from  place  to  place,  as  the  ne- 
cessities of  the  royel  family  require^ ;  and  fi- 
Bally  returned  with  them  to  England,  on  a  de*^ 
lusive  prospect  of  retrieving  xhhiv  fortunes. 

The  time  and  other  circumstances  of  his 
death  are  unknown;  though  it  is  certain  he 
lived  to  the  age  of  nearly  ninety  years,  and 
probabty  died  but  a  short  time  before  the  close 
of  the  15th  century^ 

His  works  are  numerous,  though  two  oply,  I 

K  2 


132  5P0RTESCUK. 

• 

'believey  have  been  printed.  1.  His  most  cclc- 
•tr^ted  production  is  the  De  Laudibus  Legum 
•jinglite,  before  mentioned.  It  appears  from 
the  introduction,  that  his  primary  intention  in 
writing  this  work,  was  to  institute  his  young 
master,  prince  Edward,  in  the  art  of  govern- 
ment, by  instructing  him  in  the  laws  of  his 
•country.  He  had  observed  the  proiiiising  ta- 
lents of  that  prince,  who  was  eager  to  acquire 
expertness  in  all  military  exercises,  with  a  view 
to  accomplish  himself  for  an  able  commander. 
He  thought  it  of  importance,  therefore,  to  min- 
gle with  these  laudable  propensities,  impres- 
sions of  a  different  description^  but  of  no  less 
importance  to  a  monarch.  He  was  anxious  to 
instil  into  his  mind,  just  notions  of  the  consti- 
tution of  his  country,  and  to  inspire  him  with 
reverence  for  its  laws;  that  (as  he  said,)  if 
Providence  should  favour  his  designs,  he 
might  govern  as  a  king,  and  not  as  a  tyrant  or 
conqueror.  His  honourable  solicitude,  how- 
ever, proved  fmitless,  with  respect  to  the  ob- 
ject which  called  it  forth ;  the  young  prince, 
not  long  after,  having  been  inhumanly  mur- 
dered. But  the  work  itself  still  remains  as  a 
monument  of  the  author's  talents,  and  of  his 
love  for  his  country.    This  eulogium  upon  our 


FORTESCUE.  13S 

national  laws,  though  received  with  high  com- 
mendation by  the  professional  men  to  whom  it 
was  communicated,  was  not  published  till  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII.  Several  impressions 
have  since  appeared,  with  different  titles.  But 
the  best  editions  are  those  in  folio,  Lond. 
1732 ;  and  1741,  with  a  copious  preface,  anno- 
tations, and  an  accurate  index, 

2.  "  Tlie  diiference  between  an  ?^bsolute  and 
limited  Monarchy,  as  it  more  particularly  re- 
gards the  English  Constitution  ;  being  a  Trea- 
tise written  by  Sir  John  Fortescue,  Kt.  Lord 
Chief  Justice  and  Lord  High  Chancellor  of 
England,  under  King  Henry  VI,;  faithfully 
transcribed  from  the  MS.  copy  in  the  Bod- 
leian Libraty,  and  collated  with  three  other 
MSS.  Published  with  some  Remarks^  by  John 
Fortesque  Aland,  of  the  Inner  Temple,  Esq. 
F.R.S.  Lond.  17 14,8 vo." 

*  t 

N 

The  different  effects  resulting  from  an  abso- 
lute and  limited  monarchy,  which  the  author 
stiles  Jus  Regale  and  Jus  Politicitm'et  Regale, 
is  well  illustrated  by  the  difference  of  condi- 
tion in  the  people  of  France  aid  of  tlngland 
at  the  period  of  his  writing. 


134  FORTBSCUE. 

Chap.  ill. 

And  how  soheit^  that  th^  French  king  reigneth  upon 
hisvpeople  domimo  regaU ;  yet  St.  Lewis^  sometime 
king  there,  ne  any  of  his  progenitors  set  never  talys*, 
or  other  inlpositions  upon  the  people  of  that  land, 
without  the  assent  of  the  three  estates,  which,  when 
they  tnay  be  assembled,  are  like  to  the  court  of  par- 
liament in  England.    And  this  order  kept  many  of 
bis  successors  till  late  days,  that  Englishmen  made 
6uch  a,  war  in  France,  that  the  three  estates  durst 
not  come  together.     And  then  for  t^iat  cause,  ant^ 
for  great  necessity  which  the  French  king  had  of 
goods,  for  the  defence  of  that  land,  he  took  upon  him 
to  set  tab/s  and  other  impositions  upon  the  commons^ 
without  the  assent  of  the  three  estates ;  but  yet  he 
would  not  set  any  such  charges,  nor  hath  set  upoq 
the  nobles,  for  fear  of  rebellion.    And  because  the 
commons,  though  they  have  grudged,^  have  not  re- 
belled, nor  be  hardy  to  rebel,  the  French  kings  have 
yearly  Men  set  such  charges  upon  them,  and  so 
augmented  the  same  charges^  as  the  same  commons 
be  so  impoverished  and  destroyed^  that  they  may  un^ 
neih  live.    They  drink  water,  they  eat  apples,  with 
bread  right  brown,  made  of  rye.    They  eat  no  flesh, 
hui  ^  it  ht  sdden*y  a  little  lard,  or  of  the  entrails, 
or' heads  of  beas:ts,  slain  for  the  nobles  and  mer* 

!  ilotwithstanding.       ^  tallies,  taies.      .3  seldom: 


FDRTESCUS.  135 

chants  of  the  land.  They  wear  no  woollen,  but  tf 
it  be  a  poor  coat,  under  their  uttermost  garment^ 
made  of  great  canvass,  and  passen  not  their  knee. 
Wherefore,  they  be  gartered  and  their  thighs  bare. 
Their  wives  and  children  gone  bare-foot ;  they  may 
in  none  otherwise  live :  for  some  of  them,  that  was 
wont  to  pay  to  his  lord  for  his  tenement,  which  he 
hireth  by  the  year,  a.8cute^,  payeth  now  to  the  king 
over  that  scute^  five  scutes.  Wherethro  they  be  artyd^ 
by  necessity,  so  to  watch,  labour,  and  grub  in  the 
ground  for  their  sustenance,  that  their  nature  is  much 
wasted,  and  the  kind  of  them  brought  to  nought. 
They  gone  crooked,  and  are  feeble,  not  able  to  fight, 
nor  to  defend  the  realm ;  nor  they  have  weapon,  nor 
money  to  buy  them  weapon  withal ;  but  verily  they 
live  in  the  most  extreme  poverty  and  misery ;  and 
yet  they  dwell  in  one  of  the  most  fertile  realm  of  the 
world.  Wherethro'  the  French  king  hath  not  men  of 
hii$  own  realm,  able  to  defend  it,  except  his  nobles^ 
which  heryn^  not  such  impositions ;  and  therefore, 
they  are  right  likely  of  their  bodies,  by  which  cause 
the  said  king  is  compelled  to  make  his  armies,  and 
and  retinues  for  the  defence  of  his  land,  of  strangers, 
as  Scots,  Spaniards,  Arragonars\  men  oi  Ahnayn,% 
and  of  other  nations ;  else,  all  his  enemies  might 

*  of  the  value  of  Ss.  4d.  a  French  gold  coin,  the  same  with  their 

CicuU  or  ecui  d'or,  or  gold  crown  piece. 

*  prc&cd,  constrained.     3  bear,     *  Arragonians,    *  Gennanj. 


136  FORTESCUR. 

overrun  him :  for  he  hath  no  defence  of  his  own, 
except  his  castles  and  fortresses.  Lo !  this  the  fruit 
of  his  Jm  Regale,  If  the  reahn  of  England,  which 
is  an  isle,  and  therefore  might  not  Ughtly  get  suc- 
cours of  other  lands,  were  ruled  under  such  a  law, 
and  under  such  a  prince,  it  would  be  then  a  prey  to  all 
other  nations  that  would  conquer,  rot,  and  devour 
it ;  which  was  well  proved  in  the  time  of  the  Bri- 
tons, when  the  Scots  and  the  Picts  so  beat  and  op- 
pressed this  land,  that  the  people  thereof  sought 
help  of  the  Bomans,  to  whpip  they  had  been  tribu- 
tary. And  [as]  they  could  not  be  defended  by  them, 
they  sought  help  of  the  duke  of  Britany,  then  called 
Little  Britain,  and  granted  therefore,  tp  make  his 
brother  Constantine,  their  king.  And  s(i  he  was 
made  king  here,  and  reigned  many  years,  ^  his 
children  after  him,  of  which  great  Arthur  was  one 
of  their  issue.  But  blessed  b^  Goda  ^is.  land  is 
ruled  under  a  better  law ;  apd?  therefore,  the  peo- 
ple thereof  be  not  in  such  penury,  nor  therer 
by  hurt  in  their  persons;  but  they  be  wealthy, 
and  have  all  things  necessary  to  the  susten- 
ance of  nature,  Wherefore  they  be  mighty,  and 
able  to  resist  the  adversaries  of  the  realm,  and  to 
beat  otlier  realms,  that  do  or  will  do  them  wrong, 
\jo !  this  is  the  fruit  of  Jus  PoUticum  et  Regalcy  un- 
6er  which  we  live.  Somewhat  now  1  have  shewed 
you  pf  the  fruits  of  both  laws,  ut  cxfructibiu  ^orun^ 


TOBTESCUE.  137 

Chap,  iv. 

Jlereafier  is  shewed  him  4he  Revenues  of  Trance  he  made 

great. 

Sithen  our  king  reigneth  upon  us  by  la^^s  more  fa- 
vorable and  good  to  us,  than  be  Ic^ws  by  the  which 
the  French  king  ruleth  his  people,  it  is  reason  we  be 
to  him  more  good  and  more  profitable  than  be  the 
subjects  of  the  French  king  unto  him,  which  would 
seem  that  we  be  iiot,  considering  that  his  subjects 
yielden  to  him  more  in  one  year,  than  we  do  to  our 
sovereign  lord  in  two  years,  how  so  be  if,  they  do  sOy 
ngain  *  their  wills.  Nevertheless,  when  it  is  consi- 
dered, how  a  king's  office  standeth  in  two  things,  one 
to  defend  his  realms  ^g(lin  their  enemies  outward,  by 
sword ;  another,  that  he  defendeth  his  people  again 
yrrong  doers  inward,  which  the  French  king  doth 
pot ;  si/then  he  oppresseth  them  more  himself,  than 
veould  have  done  all  the  wrong  doers  of  the  realm, 
tho'  they  had  had  no  king ;  an4  s^jfthen  it  is  a  sin  to 
^ve  PQ  meat,  drink,  clothing,  qr  other  alms,  to 
them  that  have  need,  as  shall  be  declared  in  the  day 
of  doom ;  how  mvch  a  greater  sin  is  it  to  take  from 
the  poor  man,  his  mellat,  his  drink,  his  clothing  and  all 
that  he  hath  need  of?  Which  verily  doth  the  French 
i4^g  to  many  a  thousand  of  his  subjects,  as  is  openly 

1  against. 


13d^  FaSTESGUBk 

*■ 

« 

before  declared.  Which  thing,  tho'  it  be  colour- 
ed per  Jus  Regahy  yet  it  is  tyranny :  for  St.  Thomas 
saithy  when  a  king  ruleth  his  ^ealm  only  to  his  own 
profit^  and  not  to  the  good  of  his  subjects,  he  is  a 
tyrant. 

King  Tlarauld^  reigned  upon  the  Jews,  Dominio 
liegali;  yet  when  he  scloygk^  the  children  of  Israel, 
he  was  in  that  a  tyrant,  tho'  the  laws  sayen,  quod 
principi  placuity  legis  habet  vigorem.  Wherefore  Achab, 
which  reigned  upon  the  children  of  Israel,  by  like 
laws,  and  desired  to  have  had  Naboth,  his  subject's 
Tineyard^  would  not  by  that  law  take  it  from  him, 
but  pr<^ered  him   the  value  thereof.      For  these 
words  said  by  the  prophet,  prasdic  eis  jus  regts^  be 
not  else  to  say  hxxtf  prasdic  eis  potesfatem  regis.  Where- 
fore, as  often  as  a  king  doth  any  thing  ageun  the  law 
of  God^  or  again  the  law  of  nature,  he  doth  wrong, 
notwithstanding  the  said  law  declared  by  the  pro- 
phet-   And  it  is  so,  that  the  faw  of  iiature  woll  in 
this  case,  that  the  king  should  do  to  his  subjects,  as 
he  would  be  done  to  himself,  if  he  were  a  subject  i 
which  may  not  be,  that  he  would  be  almost  destroy-. 
cd,  as  be  the  commons  of  France.    Wherefore,  al- 
beit that  the  French  king's  revenues   be  by  such 
means  much  greater  than  be  the  revenues  which  the 
king  our  sovereign  lord  hath  of  us,  yet  they  be  not 
goodly  taken,  and  the  might  of  his  realm  is  near  de** 

•Hcroct  «5lew. 


FOKTESCUE^  139 

slroyed  thereby.  By  which  consideration  I  would 
not,  that  the  king^s  revenues  of  this  realn;i  were  madt 
great  by- any  such  means;  and  yet  of  necessity  they 
inust  be  greater  than  they  be  at  this  day.  And 
$ruly,  it  is  very  necessary,  they  be  alway  great; 
^4  that  the  king  have  abundantly,  wherewith  his 
lestate  n^ay  be  honorably  kept  for  right  many  causes; 
pf  which  some  shall  ^ow  hereafter  be  remembered. 


There  is  a  MS.  of  this  work  in  the  C!otton  li- 
brary, in  the  title  of  which  it  is  said  to  be  address* 
f  d  to  Henry  VI.  but  there  can  be  little  questioHji 
froni  various  passages  contained  in  it,  that  it 
was  written  by  the  author,  with  a  view  to  in- 
gratiate hiil^self  with  Edward  IV.  The  Lan- 
castrian party  having  failed  of  succei^s  on  their 
yeturn  firom  the  continentj^  as  already  noticed^ 
Fortescue  thought  it  expedient  to  make  some 
specious  apology  for  his  attachment  to  that 
party ;  and  actually  wrote  another  book,  with 
the  express  purpose  of  attempting  a  reconci- 
liation with  the  victorious  Edward  IV.  This 
wort,  though  never  published,  had  been  seen 
by  Selden,  as  he  informs  us  in  the  preface  to 
Jiis  edition  of  the  J>€  Jjaudibm,  &c.  It  is  for 
the  honour  of  Sir  John  Fortescue,  however> 
that  notwithstanding  the  various  changes  ia 


140  FORTES  CUE. 

bis  own  fortune,  and  that  of  the  bloody  fac* 
tioos  which  then  vexed  this  kingdom,  that  be 
never  abandoned  his  old  constitutional  prin- 
ciples.— A  second  edition  of  the  work,  from 
which  the  rea*der  has  been  presented  with  an 
extract,  was  published  in  1719>  Svoi. 

Many,  if  not  all  of  the  MS.  remains  of  sir 
John  Fortescue,  are  still  extant  in  libraries. 
The  following  titles  will  serve  to  shew  us  still 
more  completely,  what  were  the  subjects  which 
chiefly  occupied  his  speculations  and  his  pen  : 
1.  Opuscuhm  de  Natura  Legis  Natura,  etde  ejus 
Censurd  in  Successione  Regrtorum  supremorum. 
,  t.  Defensio  Juris  Domus  Lanca$trie.  3.  Gene-  . 
alogy  of  the  House  of  Lancaster*  4.  Of  the  Title 
of  the  House  of  York.  5.  Gemalogia  JRe-^ 
gum  Scotia.  6.  A  Dialogue  between  Under- 
standing and  Faith.  7.  A  Prayer-book,  which 
savours  much  of  the  times  we  live  in. 

Mr.  Fortescue  Aland,  the  editor  of  ^^  The 
Diflfierences  between  an  Absolute  and%in\ited 
Monarchy,"  speaks  of  his  illustrious  predeces- 
sor, in  his  preface  to  that  work,  in  the  follow- 
ing handsome  manner :  "  All  good  men,  (says 
he,)  and  lovers  of  the  English  constitution,^ 
5peak  of  him  witli  honour,  and  that  he  stiU 
lives  in  the  opinions  of  all  true  Englishmen,  in 


K)RTESCUJS.  141 

as  high  esteem  and  reputation,  as  any  judge 
that  ever  sat  in  Westminster  HalL  He  was  a 
man  acquainted  with  all  sorts  of  learning,  be- 
sides his  knowledge  in  the  law,  in  which  he 
was  exceeded  by  none  ;  as  will  appear  by  the 
many  judgments  he  gave,  when  on  the  bench, 
in  the  year-book  of  Henry  VL  His  character, 
in  history,  is  that  of  pious,  loyal,  and  learned ; 
and  he  had  the  honour  to  be  called  the  chief 
counsellor  of  the  king.  He  was  a  great  cour- 
tier, and  yet  a  great  lover  of  his  country.'* 

The  works  of  Fortescue,  contain  many  facts 
relative  to  some  of  the  darkest  periods  of  our 
history,' together  with  various  notices,  interest- 
ing to  the  antiquarian.  Tliere  can  be  no  doubt, 
therefore,  that,  several  of  his  MSS.  which  are 
still  extant^  may  be  printed  with  advantage. 


(    142    ) 


.    ',.,J 


FENN'S  LETTEHS. 


These  original  letters,  (as  we  are  informed  iiV 
the  title-page,)  were  written  during  the  reigns 
of  Henry  VL  Edward  IV.  and  Richard  III.  by 
various  persons  of  rank  or  consequence ;  and 
contain  many  curious  anecdotes  relative  to  that 
turbulent  and  bloody,  but  hitherto  dark  period 
of  our  history.  They  were  published  in  1787  i 
and  are  all  duplicates  :  for  in  order  to  prevent 
any  repulsive  effect  to  the  reader,  from  theit 
antique  appearance,  the  original  letter,  in  all 
the  peculiarities  of  the  ancient  orthography,  is 
given  on  one  page,  and  on  the  opposite,  is  the 
same  letter,  in  the  modem  spelling,  except 
only  such  words  as  are  now  become  obsolete* 
Agreeably  to  my  plan,  I  shall  extract  only  the 
modernized  copy. 


VKNN's   LBTTEB8«  143 

The  C&py  if  a  nohble  Ixiter^  wrktm  by,  tie  Duke  4f 
St0blk*^  io  J^is  Son  -f,  grdng  Aim  tierdn  very  good 
counsel* 

My  dear  and  only  well  beloved  son, 
I  beseech  our  Lord  in  Heaven,  the  maker  of  all  the 
world,  to  bless  you,  and  to  send  you  ever  grace  to 
love  him,  and  to  dread  him,  to  the  which,  as  far  as 
a  father  may  charge  his  child,  I  both  charge  you, 
and  pray  you  to  set  all  your  spirits  and  wits  to  do, 
and  to  know  his  holy  laws  and  commandments,  by 
the  which  ye  shall,  with  his  great  mercy,  pass  all 
the  great  tempests  and  troubles  of  this  wretched- 
world. 

*  WilUaim  de  la  Pole,  dttke  of  Suilbtk,  succeeded  his  biollMr 
Michael,  sftaki  at  the  battle  of  Aginooun,  in  1415,  as  carl«C 
Sufiblk ;  he  was  prime  minister  and  favorite  of  Henry  VI.  and 
queen  Margaret ;  was  created  -  in  1443,  S3d  Henry  VI.  mar- 
quis;  and  in  1448, 20th  Henry  VI.  duke  of  Suffolk.  He  was 
banished  by  the  king,  at  the  instigation  of  the  Commons,  &c. 
^nd  murdered  on  the  sea,  on  the  2d  of  May,  1450,  ssth 
Henty  VI. 

He  married  Alice,  widow  of  Thomas  de  Montacute,  earl  of 
Sali^ttiy,  and  daughter  and  heir  of  Thomas  Chaucer,  esq,  of 
Ewelme,  in  Oxfordshire,  and  grand-daughter  of  Geofirey  Chau- 
cer, the  celebrated  poet. 

t  John  de  la  Pole  (after  his  father's  murder,)  duke  of  Sufiblk, 
&c.  He  married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Richard  Plantagenet, 
duke  of  York,  and  sister  ofEdwatd  IV.  He  died  hi  I40i,  7th 
Henry  VII.  and  was  buried  by  his  Im^tt  at  Wmgfield,  im 
Suffolk. 


144  FENN^S   LEfTEHSr. 

And  that,  also  weetingly,  ye  do  nothing  for  love 
nor  dread  'of  any  earthly  creature  that  should  dis<^ 
please  him.  And  whenever  any  frailty  maketh  yott 
'to  fall,  beseech  his  mercy  soon  to  call  you  to  him 
again  with  repentance,  satisfaction,  and  contrition 
of  your  heart,  never  more  in  will  to  offend  him. 

Secondly,  next  him  above  all  earthy  things,  to  be 
true  liegeman  in  heart,  in  will,  in  thought,  in  deed, 
unto  the  king  our  greatest  high  and  dread  sovereign 
lord,  to  whom  both  ye  and  I  be  so  much  bound  to  ; 
charging  you  as  father  can  and  may,  rather  to  die 
than  to  be  the  contrary,  or  to  know  any  thing  that 
were  against  the  welfare*  or  prosperity  of  his  most 
royal  person,  but  as  far  as  your  body  and  life  may 
stretch,  ye  live  and  die  to  defend  it,  and  to  let  his 
highness  have  knowledge  thereof  in  all  the  haste 
ye  can. 

Thirdly,  in  the  same  wise,  I  charge  you,  my  dear 
son,  alway  as  ye  be  bounden  by  the  comniandment 
of  God,  to  do,  to  love,  to  worship,  your  lady  and 
mother ;  and  also  that  ye  obey  alway  her  command- 
ments, and  to  believe  her  counsels  and  advices  in  all 
your  works,  the  which  dread  not  but  shall  be  best 
and  truest  to  you. 

And  if  any  other  body  would  steer  you  to  the  con- 

•  This  very  particular  advice  to  his  soD)  shows  his  fears  for  the 
king*specsonal  safety  at  this  time.  ^     . 


\ 

FENN's    LEtTEKS.  145 

trary^  to  flee  tbe  counsel  in  any  wise,  for  ye  shall 
find  it  nought  and  eviL 

Furtheroiore^  as  father  may  and  can,  I  charge  you 
in  any  wise  to  flee  the  ccmipany  and  counsel  of  proud 
men,  of  covetous  men,  and  of  flattering  men,  the 
more  especially  and  mightily  to  withstand  them, 
and  not  to  draw  nor  to  meddle  with  them,  with  all 
your  might  and  power ;  and  to  draw  to  you  and  to 
your  company,  good  and  virtuous  men,  and  such  as 
be  of  good  conversation,  and  of  truth,  and  by  them 
shall  ye  never  be  deceived  nor  repent  you  of. 

Moreover,  never  follow  your  own  wit  in  no  wise< 
but  in  all  your  works,  of  such  folks  as  I  write  of 
above,  ask  your  advice  and  counsel,  and  doing  thus, 
with  the  mercy  of  God,  ye  shall  do  right  well,  and 
live  in  right  much  worship,  and  in  great  heart's  rest 
and  ease. 

And  1  will  be  to  you  as  good  lord  and  father  as 
my  heart  can  think. 

And  last  of  all,  as  heartily  and  as  lovingly  as  ever 
father  blessed  his  child  "in  earth,  I  give  you  the 
blessing  pf  our  Lord  and  of  me,  which  of  his  infinite 
mercy  increase  you  in  all  virtue  and  good  living ; 
and  that  your  blood  may  by  his  grfitce  from  kindred 
to  kindred,  multiply  in  this  earth  to  his  service,' in 
such  wises,  as  after  the  departing  from  this  wretched 
world  here,  ye  and  they  may  glorify  him  eternally 
amongst  his  angels  in  Heaven. 
VOL.  I.  '  h 


146  fenn's  letters. 

Written  of  mine  hand,  the  day  of  my  departing 
fro  this  land. 

Your  true  and  loving  father, 
April,  1450^  28th  H.  VL  Suffolk* 

To  the  Right  IVorahvpfvl  John  PastoUi  at  Norwich* 

Right  Worshipful  Sir, 

I  recommend  me  to  you,  and  am  right  sorry  of 
that  I  shall  say,  and  have  so  washed  this  little  bill 
with  sorrowful  tears,  that  scarcely  ye  shall  read  it. 

As  on  Monday  next  after  May  day  (4th  May,) 
there  came  tidings  to  London,  that  on  Thursday  be* 
fore,  (30th  April,)  the  duke  of  Suffolk  came  imto  the 
coasts  of  Kent*,  full  ne^r  Dover,  with  his  two  ships, 
and  a  little  spinner;  the  which  spinner  he  sent  with 
certain  letters,  by  certain  of  his  trusted  men  unto 
Calais  ward,  to  know  how  he  should  be  received ; 
and  with  him  met  a  ship  called  Nicholas  f  of  the 
Tower,  with  other  ships  waiting  on  him,  and  by  them 
that  were  in  the  spinner,  the  master  of  the  Nicholas 
had  knowledge  of  the  duke's  coming. 

When  he  espied  the  duke's  ships,  he  sent  forth 
his  boat  to  'weet  what  they   were,    and    the   duke 

*  Some  of  our  historians  say  that  he  put  to  sea  from  the 
coast  of  Norfolk.    E. 

t  This  ship  belonged  to  Bristol  in  1442,  aoth  Henry  VI.  and 
was  a  great  ship,  with  fore-suges,  aikl  carried  150  men.    £. 


>ENN*S    LETTEfeS.  147 

Kimself  spoke  to  them,  and  said,  he  was  by  the 
king's  commandment,  sent  to  Calais  ward,  &c.  .and 
they  said  he  must  speak  with  their  master ;  and  so 
he,  with  two  or  three  of  his  men,  went  forth  with 
them  in  their  boat  to  the  Nicholas;  and  wh^n  he 
came,  the  master  bade  him  Welcome,  Traitor,  as  men 
say; 

•And  further,  the  master  desired  to  wete  if  the 
shipmen  would  hold  with  the  duke,  and  they  sent 
word  they  would  not  in  no  wise  ;  and  so  he  was  in 
the  Nicholas  till  Saturday  (2d  May,)  next  following. 

Some  say  he  wrote  much  thing  to  be  delivered  to 
the  king,  but  that  is  not  verily  known. 

He  had  his  confessor  with  him,  &c. ;  and  some 
say  he  was  arraigned  in  the  ship  on  their  manner, 
upon  the  impeachments*,  and  found  guilty,  &c. 

Also  he  asked  the  name  of  the  ship,  and  when  he 
knew  it,  he  remembered  Staceyf,  that  said,  if  he 
might  escape  the  danger  of  the  Tower,  he  should  be 
safe  ;  and  then  his  heart  failed  him,  for  he  thought 
he  was  deceived. 

*  Impeachments  by  the  Commons.    This  fthefws  that  these 
ships  were  sent  out  on  purpose  to  take  him,  &c.     £. 

f  Prophecies  in  these  times*  were  generally  believed  ;  and 
being  always  ambiguously  expressed,  had  a  greater  chance  of 
sometimes  being  fulfilled. 

•     King  Henry  IV.  from  one  of  these  arhbigudus  prophecies,  be^ 
lieved  he  was  to  die  in  Jerusalem.    £. 

1.2 


\4S  fenn's  lettees. 

And  in  the  siglit  of  all  his  men,  he  was  drawn  mit 
of  the  great  ship  into  the  boat,  and  there  was.  an 
axe,  and  a  stock,  and  one  of  the  lewdfst^  of  the  ship 
bade  him  lay  down  his  head,  and  he  should  be  iairly 
fought  with>  and  die  on  a  sword ;  and  he  took  a  rus- 
ty sword,  and  smote  off  his  head  within  half  a  dozen 
strokes,  and^  took  away  his  gown  of  russet,  and  his 
doublet  of  velvet  mailed,  and  laid  his  body  on  the 
sands  of  Dover ;  and  som?  say  hb  head  was  set  on  a  ' 
pdc  by  it;  and  his  men  sit  on  the  land  by  great  cir- 
cumstance*, and  pray.  ' 

And  the  sheriff  of  Kent  doth  watch  the  bodyf,  and 
[hath]  sent  his  under  sherifl'  to  the  judges,  to  uwf 
what  to  do  ;  and  also  to  the  king  [to  know]  what 
y  shall  be  done. 

Further  I  uot  not,  but  thus  far  is  it,  if  the  process 
be  erroneous,  let  his  counsel  reverse  it,  &c. 

Also  for  all  the  other  matters,  they  sleep,  and  the 
friar  also,  &c. 

'  meanest. 

*  Gttery.  By  great  numbers  ?    E.  - 

f  His  body  ¥ras  taken  from  Dover  Sands,  and  carried  to  the 
Cc41egiatc  Church  of  Wingfield,  in  Suffolk,  where  it  lies  in- 
terred under  an  altar  tomb,  in  the  chancel,  with  his  effigies  in 
armour,  painted,  gilt,  &c.  carved  in  wood,  lying  en  it.  It  is 
remarka(bly  well  executed ;  as  is  that  of  Alice,  his  wife,  Itke* 
wise,  which  lies  at  bis  ri|;ht  hand.     £. 


fenn's  letters*  149 

Sir  Thomas  Keriel*  is  taken  prisoner,  -end  all  the 
leg  harness;  and  about  3000  Englishmen  slain. 

Matttlew  Gooth  [q.  Goiighf  ?,]  with  1500,  fled,  and 
saved  himself  and  them.  And  Peris  Ikusy  \yas 
chief  captain,  and  had  10,000  Frenchmen  and 
more,  &c. 

'    i  pray  you  let  my  mistress,  your  mother,  know 
these  tidings,  and  God  have  you  all  in  his  keeping. 

I  pray  you  [that]  this  bill  may  rccoitimend  me  to 
my  mistresses,  your  mother  ai^i  wife,  &c. 

James  Gresham  hath  written  to  John  of  Dam, 
and  recommendeth  him,  &c. 

Written  in  great  haste  at  London,  the  5th  of 
May,  &c. 

By  your  wife, 

William  Lomnfr. 
London,  Tuesday,  5  th  of  May, 
1450,  28thlL  VL    ^ 

♦  He  was  taken  prisoner  'at  the  battle  of  Fouronigni,  fought 
on  the  18th  of  April,  1450,  where  he  defended  himself  with 
great  bravery.  He  was  beheaded  by  queen  Margaret's  order, 
alter  the  2d  battle  of  St.  Alban's,  in  1460.      E. 

f  Queiy,  if  the  brave  Matthew  Gough,  who  was  afterwards 
slain  in  Cade's  rebellion,  fighting  on  the  citizen's  part,  in  July, 
1450,  at  the  battle  of  the  Bridge  ?    £. 


The  conclusion  of  this  letter  puzzled  me  for  a' long  time  ;  at 
first  Ithought  the' word  w>ifc  might  be  read  niefoi  ssrvajit,  but 


150  fenn's  letters- 

thewwas  too  much  like  all  the  others  in  the,  same  letter,  to 
warrant  that  reading.    I  think  it  may  be  thus  explained : 

In  looking  over  this  collection  of  letters,  I  found  some  sub- 
scribed  W.  L.  and  others  William  Lomner,  in  the  same  hand. 
But  then  this  difficulty  occurred, — how  could  W.  L.  or  Wil- 
liam Lomner,  be  the  wife  of  John  PastOn  ? 

On  examining*  somie  of  the  letters  of  Margaret- Paston  to 
Jie?  husband,  and,  which  were  subscribed  ^'  B^  your  wife,"  I 
fo\ind  them  written  in  the  same  hand  as  those  signed  W.  L.  an^d 
William  Lomner.  I  guess,  therefore,  that  being  used  to  write 
sometimes  for  his  mistress  to  her  husband,  Jdhn  Past^on,  he 
now,  in  his  hurry,  instead  of  concluding,  **  By  your  servant, 
W.  L."  as  some  of  his  letters  do,  he  wrote  by  mistake,  **  by 
your  wyfe,  W.  L." 

The  family  of  Lomner,  had  property  both  at  Mannington  an4 
Wood  Dalling,  in  Norfolk ;  at  the  latter  town,  his  son  Wil« 
liam  built  a  castellated  mansion.    E. 


eWDartt  IV* 


\ 


X     153    ) 


FjENN'S  LETTERS, 
(Continued.) 


UntQ  niy  right  well^ekfted  Valenti/Uy  John  Pasttm^  Esq, 

be  this  bill  delifceredy  4*c, 

I 

Kigiit  reverend  and  worshipful,  and  my  right 
well  heloved  Valentine, 

I  recommend  me  unto  you,  full  heartily  desiring 
to  hear  of  your  wel&re,  which  I  heseech  Almighty 
God  long  for  to  preserve  unto  his  pleasure,  and  your 
hearf  s  desire. 

And  if  it  please  you  to  hear  of  my  welfare,  I  am 

not  in  good  heel^  of  body  nor  of  heart,  nor  shall  I 

be  till  I  hear  from  you ;  for  there  uvttys^  no  creature, 

what  pain  that  I  endure,  and  for  to  be  dead,  I  dare  it 

not  discover, 

And  my  lady,  xa^  niother,  hath  laboured  the  mat- 
ter to  my  £ather  full  diligently,  but  she  can  no  more 
get  than  ye  know  of,  for  the  which  God  knoweth,  I 
sgn  full  sorry.  But  if  that  ye  love  me,  as  I  trust  ve- 
rily that  ye  do,  ye  will  not  leave  me  therefore, 

ih^th.  •knovn. 


154  FENN's  .LETTERS. 

And  if  ye  command  me  to  keep  me  true  wherever  I  go^ 

J  wis  I  will  do  all  my  might  you  to  love,  and  never  no  mOf 

And  if  my  friends  say,  that  I  do  amiss^ 

Theyshallnot-mc  letsp'fortd  da,  -^   • 

Mine  heart  me  binds  evermore  to  love  you. 

Truly  over  all  earthly  tbiugj  .- 

And  if  they  be  never  so  wrath, 

I  trust  it  shall  be  better  in  time  coming. 

-  No  morlB  t'a  you  at  this  time,  but  the  Holy  Tri- 
nity h^ve  you.in  keeping;  ianAi I.  beseech  you  that 
this  bill  be  not  seen  of  none  earthly  creature,  save 
only  yourself,  &c. 

And  this  letter  was  indited  at  Toperoft,  with  full 
heavy  heart,  &c. 

-     By  your  own,  •  . 

Margery  Brews* 
Toperoft,  February,  1476-7j 
l6thE.iy: 


s?    -  '• 


*      ^    « 


To  my  right  welUhdoved  cousin^  John  Pdston,  Esq.  he 

this  letter  delivered/ SfC. 

ilight  worshipful  and  well  beloved  Valentine, 
In  my  most  humble  wise,  I  reqommend  me  unto 
you,  &c.     And  heartily  I  t^ank  you  for  the  letter, ' 
which  that  ye  send  me^  by  John  Becker  ton,  whereby 
J  understand  aud  know;  that  ye  be  purposed  to  come 


jenn's  letters.  155 

to  Topcroft  in  short  time,  and  without  any  errant  or 
matter,  but  only  to  have  a  conclusion  of  the  matter 
betwixt  my  father  and  you ;  I  would  be  the  most 
glad  of  any  creature  alive,  so  that  the  matter  may 
grow  to  effect.  And  thereas  [whereas]  ye  say,  ancj 
[if]  ye  come  and  find  the  matter  no  more  towards 
you  than  ye  did  aforetime,  ye  would  no  more  put  my 
father  and  my  lady,  my  mother,  to  no  cost  nor  bu- 
siness, for  that  cause  a  good  while  after,  which 
causeth  my  heart  to  be  full  heavy ;  and  if  that  ye 
come,  and  the  matter  take  to  none  effect,  then  should 
I  be  much  more  sorry,  and  full  of  heaviness. 

And  as  for  myself,  1  have  done,  and  understand  in 
the  matter  that  I  can  or  may,  as  God  knoweth ;  and 
J  let  you  plainly  understand  that  my  father  will  no 
more  money  part  withal  in  that  behalf,  but  an  lOOl. 
and  5  marks,  [331.  6s.  8d.]  which  is  right  far  from 
the  accomplishment  of  your  desire. 

Whei^fore,  if  that  ye  could  be  content  with  that 
good,  and  my  poor  person,  I  would  be  the  merri- 
est maiden  on  ground ;  and  if  ye  think  not  your- 
.  self  so  satisfi^ed,  or  that  ye  might  jiave  much  more 
good,  as  I  have  understood  by  you  afore ;  good,  true, 
and  loving  Valentine,  that  ye  lake  no  such  labour 
upon  you,  as  to  come  more  for  that  matter.  But  let 
[what]  is,  pass,  and  never  more  to  be  spoken  of,  ^s 
I  may  be  your  true  loyer  and  beadwoman  during  mgr 

life, 


\ 


156  fenn's  letters. 

No  more- unto  you  at  this  time,  but  Almighty 
Jesu  preserve  you  both  body  and  soul,  &c. 

By  your  Valentine, 

Margery  Brxw»; 
Topcroft,  1476-7' 


**We  arebere  furnished  with  acurious^  thought 
imperfect  catalogue,  of  the  library  of  a  gentle- 
man in  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Fourth. 

"  It  is  written  on  a  strip  df  paper,  aboif t  seven- 
teen inches  long,  and  has  been  rolled  up ;  by 
which  means,  one  end  having  been  damp,  is 
entirely  decayed  ;  so  that  the  names  of  some 
of  the  books  are  imperfect,  and  the  then  price 
or  value  of  all  of  them,  is  not  now  to  be  di^-* 
covered,  that  having  been  uniformly,  written 
at  the  end,  which  is  now  destroj^ed. 

"  It  contained  an  account  of  all  the  books  he 
had,  as  it  mentions  those' which  were  lent  out 
at  the  same  time  the  catalogue  was  made ;  and 
though  the  name  of  the  owner  is  gone,  yet  by 
comparing  the.  Ust  with  the  account  of  Wil- 
liam Ebcshum,  in  Letter  XXIV.  it  fixes  it  to 
the  hbrary  of  John  Paston. 

'^  It  contained  only  one  book  in  print,  the  rest 


penn's  letters.  157 

being  manuscripts,  and  appear  to  have  been 
bound  together,  as  numbered  1,  2,  3,  &c,  in 
the  inveritor}'. 

''An  account  of  most  of  the  books  mentioned 
is  to  be  found  in  Mr.  A^^arton's  ^  History  of  Eng- 
lish Poetry,'  and  some  of  them,  when  after- 
wards printed,  in  Mr.  Herbert's  improved  edi- 
tion of  Ames's  ^  History  of  Printing;'  to  these 
therefore  1  refer  the  reader," 

The  Inicntory  &f  English  Books,  of  John  Paston^  mmlr 
the  5th  day  of  November,  in  the  ....  i/ear  of  the  reiga 
of  Edward  IV* 

1 .  A  book  had  of  my  hostess  at  the  George,  of  the 
Death  of  Arthur,  beginning  at  Cassibelan. 
Guy  Earl  of  Warwick. 
King  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion. 
A  Chronicle  to  Edward  III.  price 
^.  J/ew— A  Book  of  Troilus,  which  William  Br...* 
hath  had  near  ten  years,  and  lent  it  to  Dame 

Wyngfeld,  and  there  I  saw  it 

worth 
3.  Item — A  Black  Book,  with  the  Legend  of 
Lady  sans  Merci. 
The  Parliament  of  Birds. 
The  Temple  of  Glas§. 
Palatjse  and  Sciatus. 


158  FENn's    LETTEifiS, 

The  Meditations  of 

The  Green  Knight worth 

4.  Item — A  Book  in  print  of  tlje  play  of * 

5.  Item — A  Book  lent  Midelton,  and  therein  is 
Belle  Dame  sans  Merci^^ 

The  Parliament  of  Birds. 
Ballad  of  Guy  and  Colbrond, 

* the  Goose,  the 

The  Disputing  between  Hope  and  Despair: 

Merchants. 

The  Life  Saint  Cry ........ 

6i,  A  red  Book  that  Percival  Robsart  gave  me ; 

of  the  Meeds  of  the  Mass. 
The  Lamentation  of  Child  Ipotis. 
A  Prayer  to  the  Vernicle, 

called  the  Abbey  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

7.  Item — in  quires,  TuUy  de  Senectute  in  diverse 

whereof  there  is  no  more  clear  writing. 

8.  Item — ^in  quires,  Tully  or  Cypio  [Cicero]  de 
Amicitiay  left  with  William  Worcester,  ..rf... 
worth 

9.  Iftm — in  quires,  a  Bdok  of  the  Policy  of  I  p ....  • 

10,  Itemr-m  quires,  a  Book  de  Sapientidf 

>  wherein  the  second  person  is  likened  to  Sa- 
pience. , 

11.  J/«w— a  Book  de  Otheay  [on  Wisdom]  text  and 
gloss,  worth  in  quires 

Manorandvm;  mine  old  Book  of  Blazonings  of 
Arms. 


/,» 


fenk  s  letters. 


159 


J?«72— the  new  book  portrayed  and  blazoned. 
Item — a  Copy  of  Blazonines  of  Arms,  and  the 

names  to  be  found  by  letter  [alphabetically]. 
Item — ^a  Book  with  arms  portrayed  in  paper. 
Memorandum ;  my  Book  of  Knighthood,  and  the 

maiiiz€r  of  making   of  Knights  oi  Justs,  of 

Tournaments ; 

fighting  in  lists ;  paces  holden  by  soldiers  ; 

Challenges;    Statutes  of  War;  and  dc  Re* 

giminePrincipum  ....  worth 
Item^^dL  Book  of  new   Statutes  from  Edward 

the  IV. 

r 

5th  of  November,  E.  IV. 


(    160    > 


The  next  writer  ©f  note  is  Caxtojt,  our  first 
printer.  But  before  ^  speak  particularly  of 
him^  it  will  be  proper  to  give  a  brief  view  of 
the  literature  of  France,  during  the  latter  cen- 
turies of  the  middle  Ages,  as  that  is  the  chief 
source  whence  Caxton  drew  his  materials  for 
enriching  his  vernacular  language. 

From  the  thirteenth  century,  to  about  the 
middle  of  the  fifteenth,  the  French  had  been 
occupied  in  translating  books  from  the  Latin. 
They  consisted  chiefly  of  legends,  rituals,  mo- 
nastic rules,  chronicles,  pandicts  and  feudal 
coutumes,  romances,  &c.  To  these  .we  may 
also  add,  versions  of  some  of  the  classics. 
These  translations  were  commonly  in  verse* 
But  in  the  year  1207,  Turpin's  Charlemagne, 
contrary  to  the  usual  practice  of  turning  Latin 
prose  into  French  rhimes,  was  translated  into 
French  prose,  by  Michael  de  Harnes.  And  a 
Life  of  Charles  the  Great,  was  printed  by  Cax- 
ton, in  1485. 

In  the  year  1245,  a  system  of  theology,  the 
seven  sciences,  geography,  and  natural  philo-- 


(    161    ) 

sophy^  undlsr  the  title  Speculvan  Mundif  wa,s 
translated  into  French,  at  the  instance  of  the 
duke  of  Berry  and  Auvergne.  This  was  con- 
verted into  English,  and  printed  by  Caxton  in 
1480. 

In  the  fourteenth  century,  the  spirit  of  devo- 
tional curiosity — a  spirit  kindled  by  St.  Louis- 
was  still  more  productive  of  holy  treatises^ 
Under  the  reign  of  king  John  and  Charles  V. 
we  have  French  translations  of  St.  Austin, 
Cassianus,  and  Gregory  the  Great,  the  first  of 
the  fathers  which  appeared  in  a  modern 
tongue.  Also  Gregory's  Homilies,  and  his  Dia- 
logues ;  with  St.  Austin  de  Civitaie  Dei ;  and 
various  other  treatises  which  it  is  unnecessary 
to  particularise. 

John,  the  French  king,  on  his  return  from 
his  captivity  in  England,  was  particularly  zea- 
lous in  his  encouragement  of  this  work  of 
translation;  and  when  he  had  fatigued  his, 
curiosity,  and  satisfied  his  conscience,  by 
procuring  numerous  versions  of  religious 
treatises,  he  at  last  directed  his  attention 
to  the  classics.  It  was  a  circumstance  auspi- 
cious to  letters,  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the 
Latin:  for  this  ignorance   rendered  him  the 

VOL*  I*  M 


\ 


(     162    ) 

more  curious  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
treasures  of  Roman  learning;  and  he  employ- 
ed Peter  Bercheur,  prior  of  St.  Eloi,  at  Paris, 
an  eminent  theologian,  to  translate  Livy  iiito 
French,  in  spite  of  the  anathema  of  pope  Grego- 
ry against  that  admirable  hi3torian .  So  j  udicious 
a  choice  was  doubtless  suggested  by  Petrarca, 
who  was  at  this  time  resident  at  the  court  of 
France,  and  who  regarded  Livy  with  enthusias- 
tic admiration.  To  the  translation  of  Livy, 
succeeded  those  of  Sallust,  Lucan,  and  Caesar, 
all  of  which  Were  probably  finished  before  the 
year  1365.  A  version  of  Valerius  Maximum 
was  begun  in  1364,  by  Simon  de  Hesdm,  a 
monk ;  but  finished  by  Nicolas  de  Gonesse,  a 
master  of  theology,  in  1401.  Ovid's  Meta- 
morphoses moralized^  supposed  to  have  been 
written  in  Latin  about  1070,  wfere  translated  by 
Guillaume  de  Nangis ;  and  the  same  poem 
was  translated  into  French,  at  the  request  of 
Jane  de  Bourbonne,  afterwards  consort  of 
Charles  V.  by  Philip  Vitri,  bishop  of  Meaux, 
the  friend  of  Petrarca,  and  who  was  living  in 
1361.  A  French  version,  too,  of  Cicero's  Rhe- 
torica^  by  master  io^n  de  Antioche,  appeared 
in  1383. 


(     163    ) 

About  the  same  time,  parts  of  the  works  of 
Aristotle  were  translated  into  French  from  the 
Latin; his  Problems^  by Evrard  de  Cohti,  phy- 
sician to  Charles  V. ;  and  his  Ethics  and  Pd/i- 
tics,  by  Nicolas  d'Oresme,  while  canon  of 
Rouen.  Other  Greek  classics  likewise  became 
known  by  Lsitin  versions ;  they  were  also 
familiarized  to  general  readers  by  versions 
from  the  L^tin  into  French.  Thus  the  Latin 
version  of  Xenophon's  Cyropaedia,  by  Poggius 
Florentinus;  was  translated  into  French  in 
1S70,  by  Vas<|ue  de  Lucerie. 

In  the  fifteenth  century,  the  French  begari 
to  revise  and  polish  the  translations  of  the  two 
preceding  centuries ;  and  to  turn  many  of  their 
metrical  versions  into  prose.  The  introduce 
tion,  too,  of  more  entertaining  and  better  books, 
and  their  multiplication  arising  from  the  in- 
vention of  printing,  had  the  e^ect  of  abating 
the  rage  for  legends,  and  other  superstitious 
tracts :  for  the  printers,  who  multiplied  great- 
ly towards  the  close  of  this  century,  found  it 
Jheir  interest,  instead  of  procuring  expensive 
versions  of  the  ancient  fathers,  &c.  to  publish 
new  translations  of  books  of  greater  entertain- 
ment.   Among  these  may  be  mentioned,  as 

M  2 


(     164    ) 

instances^  Lancelot  dii  Lac,  translated  from  the 
Latin^  by  Robert  de  Borron,  at  the  command 
of  our  Henry  II.  or  III.  and  Gyron  le  Cour-- 
tois. 

This  century  produced  also  many  French 
versions  of  classics.  An  abridgement  of  the 
three  first  decads  of  Livy,  was  made  by  Hen- 
ry Romain,  a  canon  of  Tournay.  In  1416, 
Jean  de  Courci,  a  knight  of  Normandy,  gave  a 
translation  of  some  Latin  Chronicle,  "  A  His- 
tory of  the  Greeks  and  Romans/'— entitled 
"  Bouquassiere."  We  have  also  the  "  Four  Car- 
dinal Virtues"  of  Seneca;  Quintus  Curtius,  in 
1468;  Caesar's  Commentaries;  Terence,  1466; 
Ovid's  Metamorphoses.  The  GEconomics  of 
Aristotle,  and  Tully's  de  Amicitia,  and  de  Se* 
nectute,  before  the  year  1426.  Tully's  Ora- 
tion against  Verres,  by  Jean  de  Lunenbourg. 
Also  Hippocrates  and  Galen,  in  1429,  by  John 
Toustier,  surgeon  to  the  duke  of  Bedford,  then 
regent  of  France.  The  Iliad,  about  the  same 
period,  was  also  translated  into  French  metre, 
probably  from  a  Latin  version.  The  j^neid  of 
Tirgil,  was  translated  into  a  sort  of  metrical 
romance,  or  history  of  -Slneas,  under  the  title 
of  JJvte  d'Eneidos^  compile  par  Virgile^  by 


^ 


(     165    ) 

GuiUaume  de  Roi ;  printed  in  1483,  at  Lyons. 
The  translator  has  made  various  interpola- 
tions and  omissions ;  as  a  description  of  the 
first  foundation  of  Troy,  by  Priam ;  and  the 
succession  of  Ascanius  and  his  descendants, 
after  the  death  of  Turnus.  There  is  a  digress 
sion  upon  BoccaciQ,  reprehending  him  for 
giving,  in  his  "  Fall  of  Princes,"  an  account 
of  the  death  of  Dido,  different  from  that  in- 
the  fourth  book  of  the  ^neid.  He  passes  over 
^neas's  descent  into  hell,  as  a  tak  manifestly 
forged  and  incredible. 

It  has  been  before  observed,  that  the  inti- 
mate connection  subsisting  between  France 
and  England  for  several  centuries  subsequent  to 
the  conquest,  rendered  the  French  language 
common  between  the  two  nations.  Books, 
therefore,  of  any  description,  did  not  long  ex- 
ist in  France,  without  finding  their  way  to 
this  country,  MS.  copies  were  presented,  ei- 
ther by  the  translators  or  their  patrons,  to  the 
kings  of  England ;  and  are  still  to  be  found 
among  the  royal  MSS.  in  the  British  Museum. 
Many  of  these  MSS.  were  elegantly  written, 
and  often  embellished  with  curious  miniatures, 
ond  with    the    most  spleqdid    illuminations. 


i  m  ) 

Others  were  brought  to  England^i  aqd  repo^ 
sited  in  the  royal  library,  by  John,  duk^  of 
Bedford,  when  regent  of  France.  A  few  of 
these  MSS.  were  transcribed^  if  not  t]ranslat;ed> 
'    by  command  of  our  kings. 

In  this  manner  some  acquaintance  with 
classical  literature  was  introduced  prior  to 
the  revival  of  letters.  Before  the  transla- 
tion of  Livy,  by  Bercheur,  had  been,  brought 
into  England,  by  the  regent  duke  of  Bed- 
ford, few  Englishmen  had  probably  read 
that  historian.  Many  of  the  Roman  po^ts 
and  historians  were  now  perused  in  the  origi- 
nal, though  the  knowledge  of  the  Latin  waa 
chiefly  confined  to  a  few  ecclesiastics.  Thescj 
authors,  however,  through  the  medium  of  the 
[French,  became  intelligible  to  ordinary  read-, 
ers,  and  thus  assisted  in  sowing  the  seeds  of 
ta^te,  and  of  a  national  literature.  Even  the 
Erench  versions  of  the  superstitious  dreams  of 
speculative  ipionks,  and  the  allegorical  an4^ 
philosophical  reveriea  of  irrefragable  doctors^ 
in  their  day,  were  not  without  their  utility. 
They  served  to  excite  a  taste  for  reading, 
which,  when  once  awake,  seeks  contintially  ta 
^)e  gratified, with  new  objects.. 


(    107    )        • 

Such  were  the  sources  whence  Caxton  had 
to  draw  for  the  exercise  of  his  wonderful  art, 
for  the  improvement  |of  his  native  tongue,  and 
for  the  amusement  and  instruction  of  his 
countrymen.  I  npw  proceed  to  a  more  parti- 
cular account  of  that  indefatigable  benefactor 
of  his  species. 


(    168    ) 


CJXTON. 

WjlliamCaxton,  the  person  who  introduced 
and  first  practised  the  art  of  printing  in  Eng- 
land^ was  born  about  the  close  of  the  reign  of 
Henry  IV.  in  the  Weald^  or  woody  part  of 
Kent.  He  was  taught  by  his  mother  to  read 
and  write ;  and  subsequently  attained  by  his 
own  industry,  a  competent  knowledge  of  the 
JjBiXm  and  French-  At  the  age  of  fifteen  or 
sixteen,  he  was  put  apprentice  to  a  mercei:  of 
eminence  in  London ;  and  in  consideration  of 
his  integrity  and  good  behaviour,  his  master^, 
at  his  death,  in  1441,  bequeathed  him  a  legacy 
of  tTiirty-fonr  marks ;  a  considerable  sum  in 
^ose  days.  Being  now  a  man  of  some  pro- 
perty, of  a  respectable  character,  and  very  ex- 
pert in  his  business,  he  was  chosen  by  the  mer- 
cer's company,  of  which  he  was  become  a  free- 
man, to  be  their  agent  or  factor,  in  Holland, 
Zealand,  Flanders,  &c.  In  these  countries,  he 
spent  about  twenty-three  years ;  during  which 
he  acquired  such  a  character  for  knowledge 
€ind  experience,  that  in  1464,  we  find  him  as- 


CJAXTON.  l60 

soclated  with  Richard  Whetehill,  Esq,  in  a 
commission^  entrusted  to  them  by  Edward  IV. 
to  continue  and  confirm  the  treaty  of  com* 
merce,  between  his  majesty  and  Philip  duke 
of  Burgundy ;  or  to  make  a  new  one,  if  thought 
necessary.  This  intevcoui;8e  in  trade,  creating 
a  common  Interest,  produced  in  1468,  a  mar- 
riage between  the  lady  Margaret  of  York,  sis- 
ter to  Edward,  and  the  duke's  son  Charles^ 
then  duke  of  Burgundy. 

Caxton  was  expert  in  penmanship,  and  by 
his  residence  abroad,  and  intercourse  with  li- 
terary men,  had  become  well  versed  in  lan- 
guages and  general  literature.  The  new  inven- 
tion of  printing  was,  at  this  time,  the  subject 
of  general  interest  and  conversation  on  the 
continent ;  and  Caxton,  at  a  great  expence, 
made  himself  a  practical  master  of  this  unrivalled 
invention.  His  skill  in  the  art,  probably,  ob- 
tained him  the  countenance  of  Margaret,  now 
duchess  of  Burgundy,  who  encouraged  him  in 
ihe  practice  of  it,  and  established  him  in  her 
service.  He  was  employed  by  her  in  translat- 
ing a  large  volume  from  the  French,  and  after- 
wards in  printing  it.  This  work  was  published 
under  the  title  of  "  The  Recuyell  of  tl)e  Histo- 
iries  of  Troye/'  8cc.  and  is  remarkably  as  being 


170  CAXTON. 

the  first  book  ever  printed  in  the  Englis^h  lanr 
guage,  Caxton  was  engaged  upon  it  for  some 
time  at  Ghent,  but  finished  it  at  Cologne,  in 
1471,  on  which  he  returned  to  Bruges,  and 
presented  it  to  the  lady  Margaret,  who  libe- 
rally rewarded  him  for  his  trouble.  Haying 
sold  as  many  copies  as  he  could  on  the  coiiti- 
nent,  he  returned  in  1472,  to  England,  bring-, 
ing  with  him  the  remainder,  as  specimens  of 
his  skill;  and  hence  is  dated  the  introduction 
of  the  art  of  printing  into  this  country.  The 
art  itself,  however,  was  not  practised  here,  ei^ 
thev  by  himself,  or  any  one  else,  till  about  two 
years  after. 

The  first  book  printed  in  England  was  '^  The 
Game  of  Chess^"  da^ed  1474.  And  we  learn 
fron\  Stowe's  Survey  of  London  (edit,  fol, 
1633,  p.  515,)  ^^  that  in  the  Eleemosinary,  or 
Almonry,  at  Westminster  Abbey,  (now  cor- 
ruptly called  Ambry,  for  that  the  alms  of  the 
Abbey  were  there  distribnted  to  the  poor,) 
John  Islep,  abbot  of  WestmiAster,  erected  the 
first  press  of  bookTprinting,  that  ever  was  in 
Jjigland  ;  and  Caixton  was  the  first  that  prac- 
tised it  in  the  said  Abbey.'*  Stowe,  however, 
is  mistaken  in  the  person  who  was  abbot  in  the 
year  mentioned.     It  was  not  Idep,  but  ©r. 


CAXTOK.  171 

Thomas  Millings  a  maa  famous  fo^  \is  I^otow- 
ledg^  of  Greek  in  that  period. 

lu  1479^aprintiag  press  wsisqJbo  established 
IMI  Oxford ;  aad  aot  long*after  at;^St.  Albans. 

Printing  was  ftrst  peyfojmed  by  means  of 
wooden  types,  fiastened  very  iacoinmodiouslj 
together,  Caxtpn  was  the  first  who  printed 
'  with  fusile  types.  His  successor,  Wynkin  de 
Worde,  added  some  improvements  to  the  art, 
$knd  particularly  introduced  musical  notes,  and, 
a$  some  suppose,  the  Iloman  numerals.  Pyn« 
son,  by  extraction  f^  Norman,  was  the  first  who 
used  the  Roman  character.  The  introduction 
pf  the  paper-^manufactory  also  into  England, 
in  the  r^ign  of  Henry  VIII,  or  perh^^ps  towards 
ihe  close  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.  contri- 
Vuted  to  faciUtate  and  augment  the  improve-i 
inents  in  the  typographical  art, 

Gaxtouvwas  a  man  of  great  modesty  and 
simplicity  of  character,  joined  with  indefatiga^ 
hie  industry.  He  commonly  stiles  himself  *^  sim- 
ple William.  Gaxton."  He  continued  to  pre- 
pare copy  for  the  press  even  to  the  last;  and 
though  his  talents  were  not  brilliant,  his  great, 
his  incalculable  services  to  mankind,  in  being 
the  instrument  of  introducing  an  art,  of  all 
pthers  th$  most  widely  and  permanently  bene-. 


17S  CAXTON. 

ficiaT^  entitle  him  to  the  eternal  thanks  of  the 
human  race ;  and  we  would  willingly  afford  him 
higher  commendation,  than  the  equivocal 
praisd  bestowed  upon  him  by  Bale,  who  says 
that  he  was — "  vir  non  omnifio  stupidusy  aut  ig^ 
navia  toiyetis ;  sed  propagandtR  m<R  gentis  me^ 
moriee  studiosus admodum"  His  last  work  was 
a  translation  from  the  French,  of  a  large  vo- 
lume,, entitled  *^The  Holy  Lives  of  the  Fa- 
thers Hermits,  living  in  the  Deserts,"  a  wqrk 
which  he  finished,  together  with  his  life,  on  the 
same  day,  in  the  year  1491. 

Tlie  books  printed  by  Caxton,  were  very  nu^ 
Bierous,,  amounting  in  the  whole  to  nearly 
sixty.  A  great  number  of  these  he  translated, 
as.  well  as  printed ;  and  those  which  he  did  not 
translate,  he  often  revised  and  altered  ;  so  that 
ixt  point  of  language,  they  may  be  considered 
as  his  own*  Of  a  few  of  these  books,  I  shall 
now  proceed  to  give  extracts,  with  a  brief  ac- 
count of  each-  Those  who  are  desirous  of  a 
more  complete  view  than  is  compatible  with 
the  object  of  this  work,  may  consult  the  Life  of 
Caxton^  by  Lewis,  or  Ames's  Typographical 
4nti(iuities;  as  likewise  Bowyer's  Essays,  on  the. 
istme  subject,,  with  other -sources. 


(173  ) 


THE  CHRONICLES  OF  ENGLAND. 

This  book  was  first  translated  from  a  French 
Chronicle  (MSS.  Harl.  200,  4to.)  written  in  the 
beginning  of  the  reign  of  Edward  III.  TTie 
French  have  also  a  famous  ancient  prose  Ro- 
mance, called  Bruty  which  includes  the  his- 
tory of  the  Sangreal ;  but  I  know  not  whether 
this  is  the  same  with  the  English  copy. 

These  Chronicles  were  printed  by  Caxton, 
in  1480,  in  the  20th  of  Edward  IV.  They 
were  also  printed,  together  with  the  *^  Fruit  of 
Times,"  in  a  thick  short  folio,  in  1483,  at  Su 
Albans.  Hence  they  have  been  caljed  the 
Book  of  St.  Albans,  and  the  Chronicle  of  St. 
Albans.  In  this  edition,  which  was  re-printed 
by  Wynkin  de  Worde,  in  1497,  the  names  of 
the  authors,  from  whom  it  was  chiefly  com- 
piled, are  enumerated;  viz.  '^  1.  Galfridus 
Monmouth,  monk,  in  his  book  of  Brute ;  2. 
S.  Bede,  in  the  Acts  of  England,  in  his  book 
of  Times  ;  3.  Gildas,  in  the  Acts  of  Britain;  4. 
William  of  Malmsbuty,  monk  ;  in  the  Acts  of 
the  Kings  of  England  and  Bishops ;  5.  Cassio- 
dorus,  of  the  Acts  of  En^perors  and  Bishops  5 


174     THE  CHRDNlCtEiJ    O*'   £^6LA]^0^ 

6*  Su  Austin  de  Civitate  Dei;  7»  Titus  Livitis 
dip  Gestis  Romanorum;  8*  Martin,  peniten-* 
tiary  tp  the  pope>  in  his  Chronicles  of  Empe- 
rors and  Bishops ;  Q.  and  lastly,  Theobaldus 
Cartusiensis,  containing  in  his  book  the  pro-^ 
gress  of  all  notable  fathers,  from  the  beginning 
of  the  world  unto  our  time,  with  the  notable 
acts  of  the  same.'* 

This  work  is  divided  into  seven  parts ;  of 
which  the  last  makes  half  the  book,  and  begins 
at  the  conquest*  In  the  prologue,  the  au-* 
thor  proposes  to  continue  these  Chronicles, 
*'  from  the  Normans  to  our  time,  which  is  un- 
der the  reign  of  king  Edward  IV.  the  23d 
year,  whose  noble  Chronicles,  by  custom,  may 
no^  be  seen.'^  The  writer,  however,  was  pro- 
bably prevented  by  death,  from  completing  his 
design :  for  at  the  end  of  his  Chronicle,  he 
does  not  descend  so  low  by  nearly  a  dozen 
years ;  and  the  last  paragraph  ends  with  the 
popedom  of  Sixtus  IV.  who  was  elected  in 
1471,  and  was  still  living,  '^  At  the  making  of 
this  book,**  which  concludes  by  saying,  ''  that 
John  Abbot,  of  Habingdon,  was  the  poJ)e's  le- 
gate in  Englartd,  to  disposd  of  the  treasure  of 
the  church,  to  withstand  the  misbelieveable 
Turk,"  &c. 


tH£  CUttONlCLES  OF  ENGLAND.       175 

The  book  first  mentioned,  printed  by  Cax- 
ton^  is  likewise  divided  into  seven  parts ;  and 
ako  into  £63  chapters.  The  last,  or  263d, 
treats  "  Of  the  Deposition  of  king  Henry  VI. 
>nd  how  king  Edward  IV.  took  possession  of 
the  reahn  ;  and  of  the  battle  on  Palm-Sunday; 
and  how  he  was  wounded." 

The  Chronicles,  as  printed  by  ^xton,  were 
common  before  the  introduction  of  printing. 
In  those,  times  of  popery,  no  English  Chroni- 
cle was  so  generally  read ;  nor  any,  for  above 
150  years  after,  so  often  reprinted ;  amount- 
iag  in  the  whole,  to  five  or  six  impressions,  in 
the  space  of  thirty  years.  To  the  latter  edi- 
tions is  annexed,  **  The  Description  of  Eng- 
land," taken  from  the  Polychromcon.  Pyn- 
son's  edition  concludes  with  a  short  Latin  epi- 
logucjt  briefly  enumerating  the  kings  of  Eng- 
land from  the  conquest. 

~As  the  fabulous  history  of  Britain  may  not 
be  familiar  to  all  my  readers,  it  may  be  enter- 
taining to  such  persons,  to  know  who  were  its 
aboriginal  inhabitants,  according  to  the  ac- 
count, and  in  the  languageof  these  early  Chroni- 
cles. I  shall  thereforelay  before  the  reasder,  the 
story  of  the  first  peopling  of  our  island,  together 
with  the  legend  of  Brute,  entire.    But  previ- 


176      THE  CHRONICLES  Ot  ENGLAK0. 

ous  to  this>  it  may  be  propei'  to  premise^  that 
the  story  of  Brute  and  his  Trojans,  is  taken 
from  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth ;  and  for  the  be* 
nefit  of  the  uninformed  reader,  to  give  a  brief 
statement  of  the  origin  of  this  romantic  fable^ 
with  others  contained  in  that  ancient  histo-' 
rian.  , 

About  th||year  1 100,  Walter  Mapes,  clrch- 
deacon  of  Oxford,  in  his  travels  through  France, 
procured  in  Armorica,  or  Bretagne,  an  ancient 
chronicle,  entitled  Brut*-y^Brenhined  ^  it  e*  the 
History  of  the  Kings  of  Britain*  On  his  re-^ 
turn  to  England,  he  communicated  the  MS. 
to  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  a  Welch  benedic- 
tine  monk,  with  a  request  that  he  would  trans-' 
late  it  into  Latin*  In  this  translation,  Geoffrey 
has  interwoven  various  traditions  from  the  tes- 
timony of  his  friend,  the  archdeacon,  who  learnt 
them  in  Armorica ;  and  also  has  probably  ad- 
ded others  known  to  himsdf,  as  popular  in 
Wales*  In  particular,  some  part  of  the  account  of 
king  Arthur's  atchievements,  he  acknowledges 
to  have  received  from  the  mouth  of  Walter  ; 
and  confesses  that  Merlin's  prophecies  were  not  - 
in  the  Armorican  original.  Geoffrey's  transla- 
tion was  probably  finished  after  the  year  1138, 

Mr.  Warton  supposes  that  the  British  ori- 


tH£  CHROHlCXiES  OF  £K«XAKD.        177 

gitial  consisfted  of  fables  thrown  out  by  different 
rhapsodists,  at  different  times,  whichw^re  after- 
wards collected  and  digested  into  an  entire  his- 
toiy,  perhaps  wirfi  new  decorations  of  fancy  by 
the  compiler,  whom  he  conjectures  to  have  been 
one  of  the  professed  bards,  or  rather,  a  poetical 
historian  of  Armorica^  or  Basse  Bretagne ;  ancl 
that  in  this  state  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  Geof- 
frey of  Monmouth.  This  Chronicle,  divested 
of  its  romantic  embellishments,  deduces  the 
Welch  princes  from  the  Trojan  Brutus  to  Cad- 
wallader,  who  reigned  in  the  seventh  century. 

It  is  remarknble,  that  this  humour  of  t/acing 
their  descent  from  Troy,  prevailed  from  the 
sixth  and  seventh  centuries  downwards,  among 
most  of  the  European  nations.  Hunnibaldus 
Francus,  in  his  Latin  history  of  France,  begin- 
nirig  with  the  Trojan  war,  and  ending  with 
Clovis  the  First,  ascribes  the  origin  of  the 
French  nation  to  Francio,  a  son  of  Priam. 
And  even  the  Greeks  did  not  escape  the  pre- 
posterous ambition  of  being  thought  to  be  de* 
scended  from  their  ancient  and  notorious  ene- 
mies. This  absurd  emulation,  among  the  Eu- 
ropean nations,  for  the  honour  of  a  Trojan  al- 
liance, is  supposed  by  Warton,  to  have  origi* 
tmt^d  from  thexeviVal  of  VirgilViEneid,  about 

vox.  X^  ^ 


178   THE  CHRONICLES  OF  ENGLAND. 

the  sixth  pr  seventh  century,  which  represent- 
ed the  Trojans  as  the  founders  of  Rome,  the 
capital  of  the  supreme  pontiff^  and  a  city 
which,  in  the  early  ages  of  Christianity,  was 
regarded  with  a  sort  of  reverential  admiration. 
The  monks  and  other  ecclesiastics,  the  only 
readers  and  writers  of  the  age,  were  interested 
in  propaging  ^he  opinion ;  and  in  proportion 
as  the  barbarous  European  nations  received  a 
tincture  of  literature,  they  eagerly  imbibed  the, 
prevalent  fashion   of  deducing  their  original 
from  some  of  the  nations. the  most  renowned 
in  ancient  story.     Spme  nations  boasted  their 
descent  from  some  of  the  generals  of  Alexan- 
der the  Great;   from  Prusias   of   Bithynia; 
from  the  Greeks,  or  the  Egyptians.    The  Bri- 
tons, as  likewise  other  European  nations,  who 
were  long  provincial  to  Rome,  probably  de- 
rived their  notions  of  Trojan  extraction^  fron^ 
their  conquerors^ 

The  legend  of  Brutus,  with  the  history  of 
his  successors,  is  presumed  not  to  have  been 
contrived,  till  after  the  ninth  century ;  since 
Nennius,  who  florished  about  the  middle  of 
that  century,  though  he  gives  an  obscure  out- 
line of  the.  story  of  Brutus,  is  totally  uninform- 
ciirespecting  the  affairs  of  Britain^  prior  to  Cm-f 


TliE  CHBOHICLES  OV  EllGLAKd.  tf^ 

sdr*s  invasion.  Again^  Alfred's  translation  of  the 
Mercian  law^  is  meiitioned ;  and  Charlemaghe*a 
twelve  peers  are  said  to  have  been  present  at  king 
Arthur's  magnificent  coronation  in  the  city  of 
Caerleon«-^anachronisms  not  uncommon  in  ro-* 
Uisince.  ''  It  wei^e  edsy  ^ftays  Warton,)  to  pro-* 
duce  instances  that  this  Chronicle  was  un- 
doubtedly framed  after  the  legend  of  St.  Ur- 
sula, the  acts  of  St.  Ludius,  find  the  histori- 
cal writiiigs  of  the  venerable  Bede,  had  under-: 
gone  some  degree  of  circulation  in  the  world.'* 
Some  pirts  of  it  again  must  have  been  written 
iSLS  low  down^  or  after  the'  eleventh  century :  for 
Caniite's  Forest,  or  Cannock-Wood,  in  Staf 
fbrdshire,  occurs;  and  Canute  died  in  1056. 
Moreover,  at  the  ideal  coronation  of  king  Ar-* 
thur,  a  splendid  tournament  is  described ;  and 
touhiaihents  did  not  exist,  in  all  their  peculiar 
formalities  and  ceremonious  usages,  till  several 
centuries  after  the  time  of  Arthur.  The  bu- 
rial of  Hengist  too>  the  Saxon  chief,  who  is 
said  to  have  been  interred  not  ^fter  the  Pagan 
fashion,  but  after  the  manner  of  the  Soldans, 
conspires  with  the  above  arguments,  to  prove 
that  the  Chronicle  in  question  was  compiled 
about  the  time  of  the  crusades  :  for  it  was  sub- 
sequent to  those  holy  expeditions^   that  the 

N  2 


180      TliB   CHRONICLES  OF  ENGLANP. 

0 

soldans  or  stiltans  of  Babyloix,  of  Egyptj  of 
Iconium,  and  other  Eastern  kingdoms^  became 
familiar  in  Europe. 

The  conclusion^  however,  of  Warton,  thai: 
the  fictions  in  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth^  instead 
of  being  fabricated  by  the  Welsh  bards^  are 
all  inventions  of  Arabian  origin^  seems  to  re- 
quire important  limitations.  Mr.  Ellis,  in  the 
introductory  sections  to  his  *^  Specimens  of 
early  English  Metrical  Romances/'  1805,.  sup- 
poses^ with  greater  appearance  of  probability, 
'^  that  the  scenes  and  characters  of  our  roman- 
tic histories,  were  very  generally,  though  not 
exclusively,  derived  from  the  Britons,  or  from 
the  Welsh  of  this  island ;  that  much  of  the 
colouring,,  and  perhaps  some  particular  ad^ 
-  ventures,  may  be  of  Scandinavian  origin; 
and  that  occasional  episodes,  together  witl> 
part  of  the  machinery,  may  have, been  bor- 
rowed from  the  Arabians."  It  is  unnecessary, 
in  this  place,  to  enter  further  into  the  contro- 
versy, to  whicli^difFerence  of  opinion  on  this 
subject  has  given  birth ;  and  particularly,  as 
Mr.  Ellis,  in  the  publicat\x)n  above  alluded  to, 
has  treated  it  at  considerable  length.  I  shall 
simply  exhibit,  therefore,  his  general  con^ 
elusion  from  the  whole ;  referring  the  reader 


VHE  CHROMl€L£5  OF  ENGLAND.       iBl 

f£4>r  a  detailed  account  of  the^idpute^  to  his 
|>tcliiithiBTy  assays;' 

It  has  be^n  asserted,  that  Geoffrey  of  Moir- 
Itnouili  inventeiS  a  very  considerable  part  of 
the  Chronicle,  which  he  professed  to  translate 
"hbiti  tt  British  original;  since  the  fables  it 
cohutins  are  calculated  to  give  an  exaggerated 
idea  of  Britiish  greatness.  But  the  outline  of 
the  fable  of  Brutus  is  contained  in  Nonnius, 
who  traces  the  genealogy  of  that  prince  up  to 
Adam.  The  same  historian  also  gives  a  cir- 
cumstantial account  of  Merlin,  ^ence|  the 
invention  of  these  tales  must  be  placed  thre^ 
centuries  prior  to  Geoffrey.  Mr*  Ellis  sup- 
poses, moreover,  that  |;he  Clironicle  in  questioii 
was  fj^bricated  gradually ;  and  progressively 
erects  pi|  the  foundation  of  Nennius's  His- 
^  tory ;  and  conjdludes  generally,  '^  that  Geof- 
frey's Cfalromck  is,  as  it  professes  to  be,  a 
translalion  from  some  British  original;  and 
that  this  original  was  compiled  betweeh  the 
nijith  and  twelfth  centuries,  and  presents  a 
faithful  picture  of  the  traditions  and  fables 
then  received  as  history/* 


To  proceed  now  to  the  story.    The  author 
begins  with  observing : 


182   THE  CHEONICLES  OF  ENGLAND. 


/ 


BfBfore  that  I  will  speak  of  Brute,  it  shall  be 
shewed  how  the  land  of  England  was  first. named  Air 
bioiiy  and  by  what  enchesm^  it  was^t  name4^    : 

Of  the  noble  land  of  Syria,  there  was  a  royal  king 
and  mighty,  and  a  man  of .  great  renown,  tha^  wa^ 

• 

called  Dioclesiap,  tl^at  w^l  and  "s^rordijly  him.  go- 
verned and  iTilcd  thro*  his  iioble  chiv^^ ;  so  that  he 
conquered  all  the  lands  ^bput  him ;  so  that  almost 
all  the  kings  of  the  world  to  him  were  attendant. 
Jt  befel  thus  that  this  Dioclesian  spoused  a  gentle 
danisel  that  was  wonder  }^ir,  that  was  r4iis  uncle's 
daughter,  Labana*  And  she  loved  him  as  reason 
would;  so  that  he  gat  upon  her  thirty-thr^e  daugh- 
ters ;  of  the  which  the  eldest  was  called  Albine. 
And  these  datmsels,  when  they  citae  unto  age,  became 
so  fair  that  it  was  wonder.  Whereof  Dioclesian 
anon  let  make  a  sunuhoning,  ahd  commanded  by  his^ 
letters,  that  all  the  kings  that  held  of  him  should 
come  at  a  certain  day,  as  in  his  letters  were  con*- 
iained,  to  make  a  feast-  royal.  At  which  day,  thi* 
thex  they  came,  and  brought  with  them  admirals, 
princes,  and  dukes,  and  noble  chivledry.  e  The:feast 
was  royally  arrayed;  and  ther^  they  lived  in  joy  * 
and  mirth  enough,  that  it  y^as  wonder  to  wyfe^  And 
it  befel  thus,  that  Dioclesian  thought  to  marry  his 
daughters  among  all  those  kings  that  were  of  that 
splemnity.    And  so  they  spake  and  did,  that  Albine^ 

>  chancy. 


THE  CHRONICLE!^  OF  ENGLAND.      183 

his  eldest  daughter,  and  all  her  sisters^  richly  were, 
married  unto  thirty-three  kiags,  that  wete  lords  of 
great  honour  aiid  of  power  at  this  s^emnity.  And 
when  the  s^mnity  was  done,  etery  king  took  his 
wife,  and  led  them  intb  their  own  eoontry,  and  there 
made  them  queens.  .      .  ,  .         i 

'  And  itbefelthem,  afterward,  that  thiadame  Al- 
bine  became  so  stout  and  so  stem,  that  she  could 
little  prise  of  her  lord,  and  qf  him  had  scorn  and 
despite,  €uid  would  not  db  his  will,  hilt  sjie  would 
have  her  own  will  in  divers  matters.  And  all  her 
other  sisters  every  jone  bare  them  so  evil  against 
their  lords,  that  it  was  wonder  to  xvyte^  And  foras^ 
much  that  them>thQii^t,  that  their  ^husbands  were 
not  of  so  high  ^Murenta^  come  as  theii:  j^iither.  .But 
those  kings,  ,that  were  their  lords,  wduld  have  chas- 
iised  themiwith  Mt.  maoner,  Mpoh  all  love:  and  fneikl-' 
ship,  that  th^  shouldamend  their  sdf-?wiU^  coitdt-^ 
tions;  but  all  was  for  nought:'  for  (they  did  their 
own  will  in  all  thing  that  they  likkdy  an4  had  of 
•power.  Wherefore  those  thirty^three  kings,  upon  a 
time,  and  oftimes,  beat  their  wives :  for  they  willed 
that  they  would  amend  their  tatckes  and  their  wick- 
edness. But  of  such  conditions  they  were,  that  for 
fair  speech  and  warning,  they  did  ail  the  worse ;  and 
for  beatings  oftentimes  much  the  worse.  Wherefore  the 
king  that  'had  wedded  Albine,  wrote  the  tatchcs  and 
conditions  of  his  wife  Albine,  and  sent  the  letter  to 


184      XHE  CHKOmCI^^i  Q;E  fiHa&Atiiir. 

Dioeiesian^  his  fa^«c.  lArfid  whm  tHe  Otbi^  ku%9 
heard  that  Albia^'B  IoDctiiad:9$ntrajMteri  to  Di^e* 
flian.;  anon,  tl^y  senb  leibterSf  seakd  mth  their  ^e^tls, 
the  cifnditions  and  taichu^  ot  their  vri^e$^  When  thi» 
king/Diedesiao  asm  and  beardi  so  inany  plaints  of 
his  daughters,  he  was  sore  ashamedy  and  became 
wonder  ai^ry  and  wroth  towarj(ihi&  daughters^^  ^nd 
thought  horw  he  thence  might  ^axead  it  that  they  so 
misdid;  and  anon,  sent  his  ktjbei^  Mt^  the  tl»rty^ 
three  kings,  that  they  shouM  come  to  him,  and  hiring* 
with,  them  their  wives,  emxy  oneCat  a  certain  d^y  : 
for  he  would  then  chastise*  tlioa  q^:  their  wickedness^ 
if  he  mdgkt  in  any  manner 'Wise*. 

So  die  kt»^  oame^aiiatti;^  time  and  day,;that 
then  wasiiseit  betweenthdm  aadf^eicihgst,  Dioelet- 
Stan  receivediihem  with  nineh  honour,  and  made  a 
sdiflma  feast  to  all  that  wttce  nndemeath.  bisj  lord^ 
ship,  Juid  the  third]  day  after  that  solemnity,  the 
king  Dioclesian  sent  after  hisithirty^threerdaughteis, 
that  they:  shonld i  come  ^nd  speak,  with  him  in:,  his 
chamber.  And  when  they  were  come^  he  spske  to 
ithem  of  their  wickedness,  and  of  their  cruelty,  and 
spitefully  them  reproved  and  blamed.  And  to  them 
he  said,  that  if  they  would  not  be  diastked^y  they 
should  his  love  lose  for  evermore. 

And  when  the  ladies  heard  all  this,  they  became 

>  amtiidtd. 


\ 


THE  CRR0KICI,B$  Of  BN6|.AN0>      185 

•basbedy  and  greatly  ashamed ;  and  to  thmr  feiher 
they  said,  that  thSy  would  make  all  amends;  and  so 
they  departed  out  of  their  father's  chamber. 

And  dame  Albine,  that  was  the  eldest  sister,  led 
them  all  to  her  chamber ;  and  then  made  to  void  all 
that  were  therein ;  so  that  no  person  was  among 
them,  but  she  and  her  usters  together.  Then  said 
/Jbine:  my  fiur  sisters,  well  we  know  that  the  king, 
our  fatiier,  as  hath  reproved,  shamed,  and  despised, 
for  beoaase  to  make  ua  obedient  unto  our  husbands. 
Bat  certe9  that  shall  I  never,  whilst  that  I  live ; 
^k  that  I  am  coii^e  of  a  more  higher  king's  blood 
than  mine  husband.  And  when  she  had  thus  said,  all 
her  sisters;  said  the  same.  And  then,  said  Albine, 
well  I  wo^c  fair  sisters,  that  our  husbands  have  com*- 
plained  unto  our  father  ppon  us;  wherefore  he  has 
tkis  foul  reproved  and  despisedt  Wherefore,  sisters, 
my  ccnmsel  is,  that  this  Tiight,  when  our  husbands 
hm  a<-bed,  all  w«,  with,  one  assent,  for  to  eut  their 
throats ;  and  then  we  noay  be  in  peace  of  them.  And 
b^ter  we  now  do  this  thing,  under  our  father's  pow- 
er, than  other  wherr  else*  And  anon,  all  the  ladies 
4U>nsented,  and  granted  to  diis  counsel.  And  when 
liight  was  come,  the  lords  and  ladies  went  to  bed. 
And  anon,  as  their  lords  were  asleep,  they  cut  all 
their  husbands^  throats ;  and  so  they  slew  them  alL 

tVhen  that  Dioclesian,  their  father,  heard  of  this 
thing,  h^  became  furiously  wroth  against  his  daugh- 


186       THE  CHRONICLES  OF  ENGLANB. 

tcrs,  and  anon,  would  them  all  have  brenteK  But  all 
the  barons  and  lords  of  Syria,  counseled  not  so  for  to 
do  such  straUness^y  to  his  own  daughters  ;  but  only 
should  void  the  land  of  them  for  evermore ;  so  that 
they  never  should  come  agam ;  and  so  he  did. 

And  Dioclesian,  that  was  their  father,  anon  com* 
manded  them  to  go  into  a  ship,  and  delivered  to  them 
victuals  for  half  a  year.  And  when  this  was-  done,  all 
the  sisters  went  into  the  «hip,  and  sailed  forth  in  the 
sea,  and  took  all  their  friends  to  Apolin,  that  was 
their  God.  And  so  long  they  sailed  in  the  sea,  till 
at  the  last  they  came  and  arrived  in  atn  isle,  that 
was  all  wilderness.  And  when  dame  Albine  was 
come  to  that  land,  and  all  her  sisters,  this  Albine 
went  first  forth  out  of  the  ship,  and  said  to  her  other 
sisters  :  for  as  much  (said  she,)  as  I  am  the  ddest  sisf 
ter  of  all  this  company,  and  first  this  land  hath  taken ; 
and  for  as  much  as  my  name  is  Albine,  I  will  that 
this  land  be  called  Albion,  after  mine  qwn' name. 
And  anon»  all  her  sisters  granted  to  her  with  a  godd 
will. 

And  tho  went  out  all  the  sisters  of  the  ship,  and 
took  the  land  Albion,  as  their  sister  called  it.  And 
there  th,ey  went  up  and  down,  and  found  neither 
man^  ne  woman,  ne  child ;  but  wild  beasts  of  dir 
vers  kinds.  And  when  the  victual  were  dispended, 
^ncTthey  failed,  they  fed  them  with  herbs  and  fruits, 

>  burnt.  ^strictness. 


THE  CHRONICLES  OF  SHQtAND,   187 

jn  the  season  o(  the  ycfur ;  and  so  they  lived  as  they 
best  mi^ht*  And  after  that,  they  took  flesh  of  di- 
vers beasts,  and  became  wonder  fat ;  and  so  they 
desired  man's  company,  and  man's  kind  that  them 
failed.  And  for  heat,  they  waxed  wonder  courageous 
of  kind,  80  that  they  desired  more  man's  company, 
than  any  other  solace  and  mirth. 

"When  the  devil  'that  perceived,  [he]  went  by  di- 
vers countries,  and  took  a  body  of  the  air,  and  liking 
natures  ihed  of  men ;  and  came  into  the  land  of  Al- 
bion, and  lay  by  those  women,  and  sked  those  na- 
tures upon  them,  arid  they  conceived,  and  after 
brought  forth  giants.  Of  the  which  one  was  called 
Gogmagog,  and*  another  Longherigam;  and  so  they 
ivere  named  by  divers  names.  And  in  this  manner 
there  came  forth  and  were  born  horrible  giants  in 
Albion.  And  they  dwelled  in  caves  and  hills,  at 
their  will,  and  had  the  land  of  Albion  as  them  liked, 
unto  the  time  that  Briite  arrived,  and  came  to  Tot- 
ness,  that  was  in  the  isle  of  Albion.  And  there  this 
Brute  conquered  and  discomfited  the  giants  above- 
said.  .  > 

Explicit  frma  pars.   - 


Jhre  bcginnetk  now  how  Brute  was  gotten^  and  icrw  he 
^kwjirst  his  mother,  and  after  his  father.    And  h<m 


188   THE  CHRONICLES  OF  ENGLAND* 

ke  cotiqaend  AUmm  ;  that  after  he  named  Briiaut, 
after  hit  aam  name,  that  now  is  caUed  Eagkmd,  tfier 
the  name  cf  Engisty  cf  Saxony,  This  Brute  came 
into  Britamy  about  the  18M  year  cf  Hdy. 

Be  it  knowiiy  that  in  the  noble  city  of  Great  Troy, 
there  was  a  noble  knight,  and  a  man  of  great  power, 
that  wa»  called  iEneas.  And  when  the  city  of  Troy 
was  lost  and  destroyed  thro'  them  of  Greece,  this 
iBneas,  with  al}  his  men*  ied  thence,  and  came  to 
Lombardy.  There  then  was  lord  and  governor  of  the 
land,  a  king,  that  was  called  Latyne;  s^  another 
king  there  was  that  was  called  Turocdyne,  that 
strongly  warred  upoo  this  king  Latyne,  that  often- 
times did  him  ipuch  harm.  And  when  this  king 
Latyne  heard  that  iBneas  was  come,  be  received  hitii 
with  much  honour,  and  him  withheld^  for  as  much 
as  he  had  heard  of  him,  and  toist  well  that  he  wias 
a  noble  knight,  and  a  worthy,  of  his  body  apd  his 
deeds.  This  JEneas  helped  king  Latyne  in  his  war; 
and  shortly  for  to  tell,  so  well  aiid  so  worthily  he 
did,  that  he  slew  Xurocelyne,  aiid  discomiittcd  him 
and  all  his  people. 

Aq4  vrhep  all  this  was  dene,  king  (iatyne  gave  all 
that  lajEid  tha,t  was  TuroceIyne*s,  to  this  noble  man 
iCneds,  in  marriage  with  Lavyne,  his  daughter,  the 
most  fairest  creature*  that  any  man  uist,.    And  they 

>  dettine^ 


-\ 


THE  CUBONICLBS  09  BNGLAKD.       189 

lived  together  in  joy  and  mirth,  all  the  days  of  their 
life  time. 

And  after,  Ascanius^  son  to  i£neas,  wedded  a  wife. 
And  upon  her  he  gat  a  son,  that  was  called  Syl- 
vyne.  And  this  Silvyne  when  he  could  *  some  reason 
of  man,  unweeting  ^  his  father  and  against  his  will, 
acquainted  him  with  a  damsel  that  was  cousin  to 
Lavyne,  that  was  king  Latyne's  daughter,  the  queen 
that  was  ^neas's  wife,  and  brought  the  damsel  with 
child.  And  when  Ascanius,  his  father  it  wiat,  anon 
let  inquiry  of  the  wisest  masters,  and  of  the  greatest 
clerks,  what  child  the  damsel  should  bring  forth  ? 
And  they  answered  and  said,  that  she  should  bring 
forth  a  son,  that  should  kill  both  his  father  and  also 
his  mother.  And  so  he  did :  for  his  mother  died  in 
bearing  of  him»  And^hen  this  child  was  born,  his 
lather  let  call  him  Brute.  And  the  masters  said 
that  he  should  do  much  harm  and  sorrow  in  many 
divers  places  ;  and  after,  he  should  come  to  great  ho* 
nour  and  worship.  This  king  Asganius  died  whon 
God  would ;  and  Silvyne,  his  son,  received  the  land, 
and  made  him  -wonderfully  well  belovei)  among  his 
people*  And  so  when  Brute,  that  was  Silvyne's  son, 
was  fifteen  year  old,  he  went  upon  a  day  with  his 
father,  for  to  play  and  solace.  And  as  Brute  should 
have  shot  unto  an  hart,  his  arrow  mishapped  and 
glanced,  and  so  there  Brute  slew  his  father. 

'     »  knew.  *  unknowing. 


igO       THE  CHRONICLES  OF  E^lGhkVjii 

t 

How  Brute  xoas  driven  out  of  the  kmdf  and  how  he  held 

him  in  Greece* 

And  when  this  mischance  was  befall,  all  the  people 
of  the  land  made  sorrow  enough,  and  were  sore  an  angred* 
And  for  encheson  thereof,  they  drove  Brute  out  of  the 
land,  and  would  not  suffer  him  among  them.  And  when 
lie  saw  that  he  might  not  there  abide,  he  went  from 
jthence  into  Greece,  and  there  he  found  seven  thou- 
!  sand  men  that  were  of  the  lineage  and  kindred  of 
Troy,  that  were  cojne  of  great  blood,  as  the  story 
telle th,  as   of  men  and  womeny  and  children,  the 
which  w^re  all  hold  in  thraldom  and  bondage  of  the 
king  Pandras,  of.  Greece,  for  the  death  of  Achilles-^ 
that  was  betrayed  and  slain  at  Troy.    This  Brute 
was  a  wonder  fair  man,  and  a  strong  and  a  huge  of  his 
age,  and  of  ^glad  cheer  and  semhUnt^^  and  also  wor- 
thy of  body,  and  was  well  beloved  among  his  peo- 
ple.    This  king  Pandras  heard  speak  of  his  good- 
ness, and  his  conditions,  and  anon  made  him  dwell 
with  him,  so  that  Bmte  became  wonder /)rM?y*,  and 
inucK  beloved  with  the  king;    so  that  long  time 
Brute  dwelled  with  the  king. 

So  at  the  last,  they  of  Troy  and  Brute  spake  to- 
gether of  kindred  apd  of  lineage,  and  of  aequain tr- 
ance.    And  they  plained  them  unto  Brute  of  their 

>  appeamnof  •  *  intimate. 


THE  CHRONICLES  OF  ENOLANO.      191 

sorrow,  and  of  their  bond£ige,  and  of  many  other 
shames  that  the  king  Pandras  had  them  done* 
And  unto  Brute  they  said  upon  a  time,  ye  be  a  lord 
of  our  lineage,  and  a  strong  man  and  a  mighty ;  ye 
be  our  captain  and  lord,  and  governor,  and  we  will 
become  your  men,  and  your  commandments  do  in  all 
manner  of  things.  And  bring  us  out  of  this  wretched- 
ness and  bondage,  and  we  will  fight  with  the  king 
for  truth.  With  the  grace  of  the  Great  God,  we 
shall  him  overcome ;  and  we  shall  make  you  king  of 
the  land,  and  to  you  do  homage,  and  of  you  we  shall 
hold  evermore. 

Brute  had  tho  great  pity  of  their  bondage  that  they  ' 
were  brought  in ;  and  prively  went  then  from  the 
king's  court.  And  tho^  them  that  were  of  Troy, 
went  and  put  them  into  woods,  and  into  mountains, 
and  them  there  held ;  and  sent  unto  king  Pandras, 
that  he  should  give  them  leave  safely  for  to  wend^ 
out  of  the  land:  for  they  would  no  longer  dwell  in 
his  bondage.  , 

The  king  Pandras  wexed  tho  sore  annoyed,  and 
tho  swore  that  he  should  ske  them  every  one ;  and 
ordained  a  great  power,  and  went  toward  them  all  for 
to  fight.  But  Brute  and  his  men  manly  them  dei- 
feated,  and  fiercely  fought  and  slew  all  the  king's 
men,  that  none  of  them  escaped ;  and  took  the  king, 

and  held  him  in  prison,  and  ordained  council  between 

> 


I 


19£      THE  CHllOKIC1.ES  Kfi  Elf «XA JTp. 

them  what  they  might  dmtK  And  some  said,  dial 
he  should  foe  put  to  death ;  ahd  some  said  Uiat  he 
thould  he  exiled  otit  of  die  kuid ;  and  some  said  Miat 
he  should  he  hrtnU 

And  then  spake  a  wise  knight  that  was  called 
Mempris,  and  said  to-Brute,  and  to  all  those  of  Troy : 
*'  If  king  tandras  would  yield  him  and  have  his  life, 
I  counsel  that  he  give  unto  Brute  that  is  our  duke, 
and  our  sovereign,  his  daughter  Gennogen  to  a  wife  \ 
and  in  marriage  with  her,  a  hundred  ships,  well  ar* 
rayed,  and  all  his  treasure  of  gold  and  silver;  of  com 
and  of  wine ;  and  as  much  as  we  need  to  have  of  one 
thing  and  another.  And  thence  go  we  out  of  this  land, 
and  ordain  us  a  land  dsewhere :  for  we,  nf  none  of 
our  kindred  that  come  after  us,  shall  never  have 
peace  in  this  land,  among  them  of  Greece.  For  we 
have  slain  so  many  of  their  knights  and  other 
friends,  that  evermore  war  and  contact  *  should  hfi 
among  us." 

Brute  tko,  and  all  his  folk,  consented  well  to  that 
counsel.  And  this  thing  they  told  to  king  Pandras. 
And  he,  for  to  have  his  life,  granted  as  much  as  they 
^xed ;  and  anon  gave  unto  Brute,  Genongen,  his 
daughter  to  wife,  and  a  hundred  ships,  with  as  much 
as  them  needed  of  all  victuals,  as  afore  was  or- 
dained. 

Brute  tko  took  his  wife  and  his  men,  that  forsook 

*  do.  «  eonfiict. 


THE  CHBONieLKfi  DF  ENfiLAN^*:     193 

the  land  of  GiiMcc^  andweni  them  unto. the  sea,  ^n4t 
had^^nd  Bxsdt-  weather  at  their  vill^  aod  JiQgi»  j^ 
third  day  into  aa  isle  that  wa£  called  Lorgefer  i.  TU^r 
Bfute,  anion,  sent  of  iHB-nieh  aland  for  te  eaf»y  the! 
manner  of  the  country. ' :  Andrthey  ionnd  ah  ^eld  cHy-; 
all  wasted  a,nd/(nie^\^  that  there Jwra&  theseiniBdLUlei^ 
man,  woman,  ne  nothing  dwelling ;  and  in  the  mid- 
dle  of  this  city  they  fbund  an  old  temple  of  a  fair 
lady,   that   wa^   palled   Diana,  the  goddess.  ^  And 
they  came  again  unto  Brute,    and  told  him  what 
they  had  seen  and  found..     And  they  counselled 
him  to   £0    and    do  sacri£ce  unto  dame   Diana: 
for   she    was  wont  tp  give    answer  of    whatever 
men  prayed,  and  namely  .unto  them  that  her  ho- 
noured with  sacrifice.     Brute  wenit  unto  ihaX ^amge* 
and  said,  ^'  DUma,  noble  goddess,  that  all  things 
hast  in  thy  mi^bt  and  power,  winds,  waters,  woods,^ 
field,  ^d  all  thii^gs  ^f  th^  world,  and  all  manner  o£ 
h^s^^ts  that  ther:e  are,  to  you  I  make  m^y.  prayer,  that' 
y^  pe  eounsel  and  tp^l,  nvhere,  and  in  wh^t  ^Jace,  I 
shall  h^ve  a  ccmcnabk  •  dwelling  fpr  nje  and  for  m^y  jpeon 
pie ;  and  there  1  shall  make,  in  honour  of  you,  a  well 
fiptir  temple  ,an<i  a,  n^l^,  -wjiereinye^  shall  alway  be 
honoured.*'  .     ^ 

When  he  had  done  bis  prayer,  Diana  answered  in. 
this  manner.:     "  Brute,  (said  she)  go  even  forth  tby 
way  .over  the  sea  injto  France,  towards  the  west,^and 

*  desert^.  "faiic?  sconvenieht. 

VOL.1.  O  i 


\ 


194     TH^.  CHKOXICLES  OF  EI^OLANB^ 

there  ye  shall  find  an  isle  that  is  cdUed:  AlbioB ;  and 
tluu  isle  is  becompassed  all  with  the  sea ;  and  no  man 
may  come  therein,  6ii^Mt  be  by  ships.  And  ia  thai 
land  w^e  wont  to  dwell  giants ;  but  now  it  is  not  so^ 
but  all  wilderness.  And  that,  land  is  destined  apc( 
oidained  for  you  and  &r  your  p^ple /' 


'^fT 


Haw  Corin  became  Brute's  man  ;  and  haw  king  Goffan; 

was  discofnfitted. 

r      .    ':■-' 

Then  when  Brute  had  this  answer  from  Diana,  the 
goddess,  anon  he  let  the  'anchors  wind  up,  and  sailed 
into  the  high  sea.  And  when  he  and  his  men  had 
sailed  twenty-two  days  and  more,  they  found,  fast  by 
the  coast  of  the  sea,  a  thousand  men  of  the  lineage 
and  kindred  of  Troy.  .And  their  sovereign  and  their 
master  of  all,  was  called  Gorin.  And  when  Brute 
nmst  whence  they  were,  he  tho  took  them,  with  much 
joy  into  his  shi^s,  and  led  them  forth  with  him. 
Then  Corin  there  became  Brute's  man,  and  to  him 
did  homage. 

And  so  long  they  sailea  forth  In  the  sea,  until  they 
came  unto  Gascoigne ;  and  anon  they  arrived  in  the 
haven  of  Lyegres,  and  there  they  dwelled  eight  days^ 
them  for  to  rest,  and  their  sails  to  mend  there  that  it 
was  need.    Tidings  soon  came  to  king  Goffar,  tha.t 

•  ^       » unless. 


THE  CHRONICLES    OF  ENGLAND.      195 

MTES  lord  of  that  land,  how  that  much  people,  of 
strange  land,  were  arrived  into  his  land,  in  the  haven 
of  Lyegres.  Wherefore,  he  was  sore  angred  and  an- 
noyed that  they  eame  and*  arrived  in  his  land  with- 
out his  licence  and  his  leave;  and  anoft  orflained- 
him  a  great  power  for  to  drive  out  Brute,  and  to  de- 
stroy him  and  all  his  people^  But  it  was  so,  that 
.  king  Gofifar  was  discomfitted  and  all  his  people ;  and 
himself  fled  into  France,  there  for  help  and  succour.  ' 
And  in  that  time  reigned  in  France  twelve  kings ; 
and  an  eleven  of  them  assembled  a  great  power  for  to 
help  Gofifar,  and  for  to  fight  against  Brute.  Thjs 
Goffi^r  dwelled  with  tlien^  of  France  half  a  year  and 
;  more.  And  in  the  mean  time  when  Goflar  was  in 
<I*rance,  Brute  and  his  company  destroyed  all  the 
.  land  of  Gascoigne,  and  let  take  all  the  treasure  that 
king  Goffar  had,  and  there  let  bring  it  all  into  his 
ships.  And  this  Brute  >  found  in  that  land  a  fair 
place  and  cffcenablc;  and  there  Brute  n^ade  a  fair  cas- 
tie  and  a  strong. 

When  that  this  was  done,  king  Goflar  came  from 
Fraiipe,  and  eleven  kings  with  hlln,  and  brought 
with  him  twenty  tl^ousand  men,  for  to  fight  with 
Brute  and  his  company.  And  Brute  had  but  seven 
thousand  and  three  hundred  men.  And  nevertheles?| 
when  the  two  hosts  met  together,  Brute's  folk,  tho- 
rough help  of  himself,  and  of  Turin,  his  cousin,  and 
of  Cprin,  that  well  and  manly  him  defended,  fought 

oa 


196     TTHETOHBONICLES    OF    ENGLAND. 

So  till  that  in  little  time  they  had  slain  of  the 
Frenchmen  two  thousand  and  more.  '  Anon,  all 
that  were  alive  fled  away.  And  in  this  battle  Tu- 
rin, Brute's  cousin,  was  slain.  And  Brute  let  inter 
him  worthily,  when  he  had  space  and  leisure,  in  the 
castle  that  he  had  made,  and  tho  let  call  that  castle 
Toures,  for  because  of  the  name  of  Turin,  that  there 
was  interred.  And  yet,  unto  this  day,  there  is  a  no-, 
ble  city,  that  is  called  Toures. 

And  [when]  king  GofFar  wist  that  Turin  was  dead, 
he  came  again  with  his  men,  and  after  gave  a  strong 
battle  unto  Brute;  but  Brute  and  his  men  were  so 
weary  for  fighting,  that  they  might  no  longer  enr 
dure,  but  to  megre^^  him  and  all  his,  And  then 
Brute  ;^rfe*  into  his  oastle  with  his  men,  and  made 
the  gates  fast  for  to  save  them,  and  for  to  take  coun-. 
cil  among  them,  what  were  best  for  to  do.  Brute 
and  Corin  gave  council,  and  ordained  prively,  that 
Corin  should  go  out  and  husk  kim^  in  a  wood,  till  on. 
the  morn;* so  that  in  the  morning,  when  that  Brute 
should  fight  with  his  enemies,  then  Corin  should 
come  with  his  folk,  in  the  one  side,  and  slay  And  do 
all  the  harm  that  he  might.  And  in  a  morning,  in 
the  dawning  of  the  day,  Brute  went  out  of  the  cas- 
ftle,  and  fiercely  fought  with  his  enemies ;  and  they 
manly  defended   them.     But  within   a  little  time, 

>  without  diminishing.      '» went.        3  lie  in  ?imbuscade. 


THE  CHRONICLES  OP  ENQLAtiD..        197 

Brute  and  his  folk  slew  eight  hundred  of  king  Gof- 
fax's  men. 

Then  came  Corin  with  the  bushment^y  and  smote 
to  ground,  he  and  his  company,  all  those  that  would 
stand  or  abide.  So  that  the  king  Goffar  and  his 
company  were  discomfitted.  And  fast  they  began 
to  flee,  and  Brute  and  Corin,  with  their  company, 
fiercely  them  pursued,  and  slew  more  of  them  in 
the  flying,  than  they  did  in  the  battle.  And  ih  this 
manner  Brute  had  the  victory.  And  nevertheless. 
Brute  made  much  sorrow  for  his  cousin  Turin,  ttat 
there  was  slain,  and  other  also  that  he  had  lost  of 
his  men ;  that  is  to  say,  seven  hundred  and  fifteen  ; 
the  which  nobly  he  interred  in  the  same  castle  of 
Toures,  there  where  he  had  interred  Turin,  his  cousin. 


How  Brute  armed  at  Totness,  in  the  isle  then  called  Al- 
bion^ and  of  the  battle  that  was  betwixt  Corin  and 
Gogmagog, 

So  when  all  this  was  done,  Brute  would  no  lon- 
ger there  dwell,  for  to  fight,  nor  for  to  lose  no  more 
of  his  people  ;  for  king  Qoffar's  people  might  every 
day  increase  more  and  more,  and  Brute's  lessen. 
And,  therefore;  he  took  all  his  men,  and  went  unto 

.1  ambuscade 


198      THE    CHRONICLES  OF  ENGLAND. 

» 

the  sea,  and*  had  wind  and  weather  as  their  will. 
And  the  fifth  day  after,  they  arrived  in  an  haVen  at 
Totness,  and  came  into  the  isle  of  ^Ibion.  And 
there  neither  man  nor  woman,  as  the  story  telleth, 
they  found,  but  giants.  And  they  dwelled  in  hills  and 
in  caves.  And  Brute  saw  the  land  was  fair  and  at  his 
liking,  and  was  good  also  for  him  and  for  his  peo* 
pie,  as  Diana  the  goddess  had  him  bekigkt^.  And 
therefore  was  Brute  wonder  glad,  and^let  assembled, 
upon  a  day,  all  his  folk,  to  make  a  solemn  sacrifice, 
and  a  great  feast  in  honour  and  reverence  of  Diana, 
the  goddess  ;  of  the  which  he  had  council  first  for  to 
come  into  this  land.  And  then,  when  that  they  had 
their  solemnity  done,  as  they,  upon  a  day,  sat  at  their 
meat,  there  came  in  upon  them  thirty  giants,  and 
slew  of  Brute's  men  thirty.  Brute  and  his  men,  anon 
strete  up^,  and  fought  with  the  giants,  and  slew  them 
every  one,  except  one,  that  was  called  Gogmagog. 
And  he  was  master  of  all  the  giants ;  and  he  was 
stronger  and  higher  than  any  other.  And  Brute 
kept  him :  for  because  that  he  should  wrestle  with 
Corin,  that  was  Brute's  man :  for  he  was  greater 
and  higher  than  any  of  Brute's  men,  from  the  gri- 
dehttdtl,  upward. 

Gogmagog  and  Corin,  undertook  there  for  to 
wrestle.  And  so  together  they  went,  and  wrestled  a 
long  time  ;  but  at  the  last,  Gogmagog  held  Gorin  sp 

>  foretold  ?        «  started^up..  ^  girdle's  place ;  the  waist. 


THE  eitltONlCLEB  OF  ENGLAND.       199 

fiftst,*  that  lie  brake  two  ribs  of  his  side.  Wherefore 
Corin  was  sore  angiy^  And  there  he  took  Gog- 
magog  betwixt  his  arms,  atid  cast  him  down  upon  a 
rock ;  so  that  Gogmagog  brake  all  to  pieces  ;  and  so 
he  died  an  evil  death.  And  therefore^  the  place  U 
called  unto  this  day^  the  Sai^e  of  Gogmagog^ 

And  then  after^  Brute  gave  all  that  country  unto 
Corin.  And  there  Corih  called  it  after  his  nam^ 
ComewayL  And  his  men  he  called  Qfrnewaiflet ;  and 
so  should  men  of  that  country  be  called  for  ever* 
more.  And  in  that  country  dwelled  Gorin  and  his 
men.  And  they  made  towns  ami  houses^  and  inhar^ 
bited  the  land  by  their  own  will. 


Sow  Bnd^  bvUded  Loiidon^  and  called  this  land  J^ri^ 
tain  ;  and  Seatkmdy  Allnne;  and  Waka^  Camber* 

Brute  and  his  men  went  forth,  and  saw  about  id 
divers  places^  where  that  they  might  find  a  good 
place  and  eaoenabkj  that  they  mlgl^t  make  a  city  for 
him  and  his  folk«  And  so  at  the  last  they  came  by  a 
fair  river  that  is  called  Tamys^.  And  there  Brute  be- 
gan to  build  a  fair  city^  and  let  oall  it  New  Troy,  in 
mind  and  resemblance  pi  the  great  Troy,  from  the 
Vrbicfa  place  all  their  lineage  was  come.    And  thii 

*ThMiiai,^ 


ISOO       THE  CHRONICLES  or  ENairAN0^ 

Brute  let  fell  down  woods,  and  let  e^  and  sow  land.% 
and  also  let  mow  down  meadows^  for  sustenance  of 
■  Ilim  and  his  peo{ile;  And  then  he  dtparted^  the  land 
to  them;  so  that  every che^  of  them  had  a  part,  andm 
certain  place  for  to  dwell  in. 

And  then  Brute  let  call  this  land  Britain,  after  his 
own  tiame^  and  his  folk  he  let  call  Britons.  And 
thi»  Brute  had  gotten  on  his  wife  Gennogen,  three 
sons,  that  wereworthy  of  deeds.  The  first  was  call*- 
led  Lotrih;  t^e  second,  Albanak;  and  the  third, 
Cambar.  And  Brute  bare  crown  in  the  city  of  Troy, 
twenty '  year  after  the  time^tbat  the  city  was  made. 
And  there  he  made  the  laws  that  the  Uritons  hold* 
And  this  Brute  was  tvonderly  well  beloved  among 
all  men.  And  Brute!a  soaa^also  loved  wonderly  well 
together. 

And- when  Brute  had  sought  all  the  land  in  length, 
and  also  in  breadth  ,•  he  found  a  land  that  joined  to 
Britain,  that  was  in  the  north ;  and  that  land  Brute 
^ave  to  Albanak,  his  son ;  and  let  call  it  Albany, 
after  his  iiailie,  that  now  is  called  Scotland.  And 
'Brute  fbuhd  another  country  toward  the  west,  and 
gave  that  to  C!ambar,  his  other  son,  and  let  call  it 
Cambar,  after  his  name,  and  now  is  called  Wales. 
And  when  Bmte  had  reigned  twenty  year,  as  before 
is  said,  then  he  died  in  the  city  of  New  Troy. 

'  UivUled.  ,        '  f  ach» 


THE  CHRONICLES  OF  £NOLAN0.       1201 

la  the  description  of  Britain,  by  Harrison, 
prefixed  to  Holinshed's  Chronicle,  the  story  of 
the  first  peopling  of  this  island,  is  mixed  up  of 
partly  true,  ^nd  partly  fabulous  materiaU* 
Aceoi*ding  to  that  historian,  Britain  was  at  first 
'^  a  parcel  of  the  Celtic  kingdom,  whereof  Dis, 
otherwise  called  Samothes,  one  of  the  sons  of 
Japhet,  was  the  Saturn,  or  original  beginner  ^ 
and  of  him  thenceforth,  for  a  long  time, 
called  SamotheaJ*  He  arrived  in  1910  from 
the  creation.  But  the  succession  of  princes 
descended  from  the  line  of  Japhet,  after  having 
continued  during  341  years,  was  interrupted 
by  the  invasion  of  Albion,  the  son  of  Neptune, 
(surnamed  Mareoticus,)  and  Amphitrite,  who 
^ubdued  Britain,  and  imposed  on  it  his  own 
name.  His  reign,  which  lasted  only  seven 
years,  terminated  with  his  life,  on  the  following 
occasion :  Lestrigo,  the  brother  of  Albion, 
was  at  this  time  king  of  Italy,  and  about  to 
be  invaded  by  Hercules  (then  in  Spain)  who 
had  sworn  eternal  enmity  to  the  whole  race  of 
Osyris,  the  grandfather  of  Lestrigo,  on  ac- 
count x)f  their  tyranny.  Albion,  and  his  bro- 
ther Bergion,  (who  was  supreme  governor  of 
the  Orcades),  joined  their  forces  to  aid  Lesr 
trigo  in  this  extremity.  But  ^ncbuntering 
Hercules   and    his    party,   at   the  mouth  pf 


fiOi        THfe  CHROl^lCJI^ES  OF  EH^hAKl). 

RhodanuSf  a  ten'lbk  conflict  ensued,  in  which 
the  British  princes  were  finally  discomfitted 
and  slain.  The  name  of  Albion^  however^ 
remained  to  the  country  through  a  space  of 
695  years;  that  is,  till  the  time  of  Brute> 
who  arrived  in  1127  before  Christ>^(for  the 
author  is  very  accurate  iji  his  chronology^) 
and  2840  after  the  creation^ 

The  same  author,  in  his  foutth  chaptfer,  dis* 
cusses^  the  question,  "  Whether  it  is  likely  that 
there  were  ever  any  giants,  inhabiting  in  this 
isle?"  And  after  mentioning  numerous  in*- 
stances  of  gigantic  remains  being  found  in 
Britain  and  elsewhere,  he  cites  the  following 
story  from  Trallianus,  in  support  of  the  opi*» 
nion:— *• 

"  In  the  days  of  Tiberius^  the  emperor> 
(says  he,)  a  corpse  was  left  bare,  or  laid  open, 
after  an  earthquake,  of  which  each  tooth  con*- 
tained  twelve  inches  over,  at  the  least.  Now>, 
forasmuch  as  in  such  as  be  full-»mouthed>  each 
chap  hath  sixteen  teeth  at  the  least,  which  is 
thirty ^two  in  the  whole,  needs  must  that  the 
widenessof  thisman*s  chaps  be  sixteen  foot,and 
the  opening  of  his  lips  ten.  A  large  mputh  in 
mine  opinion,  and  not  to  feed  with  ladies  of 
my  time;  besides  that,%if  occasion  served  it 
Was  able  to  receive  the  whole  body  of  a  man> 


THE   CHRONI0LB8  OF  ENGLAND.        203 

I  mean  of  such  as  florish  in  our  days.  ^  When 
this  carcass  was  thus  found,  every  man  mar* 
veiled  at  it,  and  good  cause  why.    A  messen** 
ger  also  was  sent  unto  Tiberius,  the  emperor, 
to  kpow  his  pleasure,  whether  he  would  have 
the  same  brought  over  unto  Rome,   or  toot  ? 
but  he  forbade  them ;  willing  his  legate  not  to 
move  the  dead  out  of  his  resting  place,  but  ra- 
ther  to   send  him  a  tooth  out  of  his  head ; . 
which  being  done,  he  gave  the  same  to  a  cun- 
ning workman^  commanding  him  to  shape  a 
carcass,  of  hght  matter,  after  the  proportion  of 
the  tooth,  that  at  the  least,  by  such  means,  he 
might  satisfy  his  curious  mind,  and  the  phan- 
tacies  of  such  as  are  cielighted  with  news. 

''To  be  short,  when  the  image  was  once 
made,  and  set  up.  an  end,  it  appeared  rather  an 
huge  coUossy,  then  the  true  representation  of 
the  cascass  of  a  man.  And  when  it  had  stand 
in  Rome,  until  the  people  were  weary  of  it, 
and  thoroughly  satisfied  with  the  sight  there- 
of, he  caused  it  to  be  broken  dl  in  pieces,  and 
the  tooth  sent  again  to  the  carcass  from  whence 
it  came,  willing  them  moreover  to  cover  it  di- 
ligently, and  in  any  wise  riot  to  dismember  the 
corpse,  nor  from  thenceforth  to  be  so  hardy  sis 
to  open  the  sepulchre  any  more." 


(    204    ) 


DESCRIPTION  OF  ENGLAND. 


Caxton^  about  three  months  after  his  print** 
ing  the  above  Chronicles  of  England^  printed 
a  little  tract  in  folio,  of  the  same  size  with 
the  Chronicles,  which  he  called  "The  De^ 
scription  of  England,  Wales,  and  Scotland, 
and  also  Ireland."  This  book,  as  before  ob- 
served, is  usually  joined  with  the  Chronicles  ; 
and  was  printed  from  Trevisa's  translation  of 
the  Polychronicon.  It  was  afterwards  reprint- 
ed with  the  "  Fructm  Temporurrif^  &c.  in  the 
edition  of  it  by  Julian  Notary,  in  1515.  The 
following  rubrics  are  prefixed  : 

"  1.  Here  foUoweth  a  Httle  treatise,  the 
which  treateth  of  the  description  of  this  land, 
which  of  old  time  was  named  Albion,  and  after ' 
Britain,  and  now  is  called  England;  and 
speaketh  of  the  nobleness  and  worthyness  of 
the  same* 


DESCRIPTION  OFiCNGLAND.  ^05 


(C 


2.  It  is  so,  that  in  many  and  divers  pkces, 
the  common  Chronicles  of  England  are  had, 
and  also  now  late  enprinted.  And  for  as  much 
as  the  description  of  this  land,  which  of  old 
time  was  named  Albion,  and  softer  Britain^  is 
not  described,  tie  commonly  had,  ne  the  no- 
blesse and  worthyness  of  the  same,  is  not 
known  ;  therefore  I  intend  to  set  in  this  book, 
the  description  of  this  said  isle  of  Britain,  and 
with  the  commodities  of  tl^e  same/' 

This  description  consists  of  twenty-nine  chap* 
ters ;  and  it  has  been  observed  by  bishop  NichoU 
son,  in  his  EJnglish  Historical  Library,  ^*  That 
from  the  conquest,  down  to  the  reign  of  king 
Henry  VIII.  our  English  geographers,  have 
either  been  very  few,  or  the  want  of  printing 
has  occasioned  the  loss  of  most  of  them;  and 
that  this  of  Caxton's  is  the  only  thing  in  it!* 
kind  which  we  have."  Caxton,  however,  was 
merely  the  printer  of  this  book. 


On  tJie  Laws  of  the  Britons,  and  the  Kanics  of  those 

Laws.    ' 

Dunwallo,  that  hyghte'^  Molliuncius,    also  maide 
first  laws   in  Britain ;  the   which  laws  were  called 

>  is  called. 


206  DESCBIFTION   OF  ENGLAND. 

MoUiuncius.'  l^ws,  and  were  solemnly  observed  unto 
William  Conqueror's  time.  MoUiuncius  ordained 
^mong  his  laws,  that  cities,  t.-^mples,  and  ways  that 
haden  men  thereto,  and  plowmen's  sol&weSf  shoidd 
have  privilege  and  freedom  for  to  save  all  men  that 
flee  thereto  for  succour  and  refuge. 

Then  afterward  Mercia,  queen  of  Bfitons,  that 
wfLS  Gwytelinus*  wife,  (of  her  the  province  had  the 
name  of  Mercia,  a§  soipe  m^n  suppose,)  she  made 
a  law  full  of  wit  and  of  reason,  and  was  called  Mer- 
chene  law,  Gildas,  tliat  wrote  the  Chronicles  and 
Histories  of  the  Britons,  turned  these  two  laws  out  of 
Briton  speech,  into  Latin.  And  afterward,  king  Alu- 
,  redus  turned  all  out  of  Latin  into  Saxon's  speech,  and 
was  called  Marchene  law.  Also  the  king  Aluredus 
wrote  in  English,  and  jytf(  ifo*  another  law,  that  hight 
West  Saxon  law- 

Then  afterwards  Danes  were  Jords  in  this  land, 
and  60  came  forth  the  third  law,  that  heet  Daner 
law.  Of  these  three  laws,  St.  Edward  IIL  made  one 
common  la^y,  that  yet  is  called  St.  Edward's  Law. 

1  hold  it  well  done  to  write  here  and  expowne 
many  terms  of  these  laws :  1.  Myndebrvgh  ;  hurting 
of  Ijonour  and  worship  ;  in  French,  blessure  d^honneur. 
—2.  Burhruck ;  in  French,  blessure  de  court  ou  de  cloys, 
r-3.  Grichbruche;  breaking  of  peace.— r4.  Mysken- 
^y^SI^ i  changing  of  .speech   in  court. — 5.  Shewing i 

» f>dde4.  . 


DESCRIPTION  or  EKGLANH.  207 

setting  forth  of  merchandize. — 6.  HamsoJcen^  or 
Hamfarey  a  rere^  made  iti  hou8e.<f— 7*  ForstaJlwg; 
yrrong,  or  bttte  doom*  in  the  king's  highway. — 8, 
Fritsojcen;  surety  in  defence.-r-p.  5flAr;  fprfeit.— 10. 
SQka ;  suit  of  court ;  >and  thereof  cometh  Soken.-^ 
\l^Th€arfi;  suit  pf  hondmen,'-^l2,  Fighttng-m/tte ;, 
^imersement  for  fighting.-r-13.  Bloodwi/tte ;  amerst^ 
ment  for  shedding  of  blood. — 14.  Flytwytte ;  amends 
for  chydinge*  of  blood.r— 15.  Ltyrwytie  ^  amends  for 
lying  by  a  bondwoman. — 16.  Chdtwytte  ;  amends  for 
trespass.?r*-17-'S^co<;  a  gadrynge  to  work  of  bayllyes^ 
Tsr-lS.  Hydage ;  tallage  for  hydes  of  land.-— 1 9-  Dane^ 
^held;  tallage  given  to  the  Danes,  that  was  of  every 
^ona  taterre^  that  is,  every  ox4and  three-pence. --20. 
A  Wepyiniake,  and  an  hundred,  is  all  one :  for  the 
country  or  towns  were  wont  to  give  up  wepyn,  in  the 
coming  of  a  lord.^^21.  Lestage  ;  custom  challenged 
in  eheapwgs  fares. — 22.  Stallage ;  custom  for  stand- 
ing in  streets  in  fair  time. 

1  The  word  jrerp  probably  signifies  breach. — ^Thcre  is  some 
difference,  however,  between  Hamsoken  and  Hamfare,  The 
latter  only  implies  a  brpach  of  the  peace  jn  a  house;  the 
former  is  the  liberty  or  privilege  of  a  house ;  or  the  franchise 
by  which  lords  of  manprs  were  empowered  to  take  cognizance 
pf  such  violations  of  the  peace. 

*  beating  down| — chc  ap^ning  ?  5  shedding. 

*That  is— a  coUection  by  the  bailiff  of  a  manor,  of  the  con- 
tribution called  Scot— an  asscjfsment  according  to  the  ability  of 
1^^  subject. 


90S 


I>1E8CRIPTXOI^  OF  EN^ILAND^ 


The  description  of  Wales  is  in  verse.  Tbc 
information  it  contains  is  nearly  the  same  as 
that  already  extracted  from  the  PolychronkoUf 
and  its  source  was  undoubtedly  the  same ;  un- 
less, indeed,  it  were  borrowed  directly  from 
that  Chronicle — ^a  supposition  perhaps  more 
probable. 


<    209    ) 


THE  FRUIT  OF  TIMES. 


In   the   compilation  of  this   Chronicle,  the 
same  authorities  were  probably  resorted  to,  as 

employed  by  Gower,  in  his  Confessio  ^mantis; 
of  which  the  three  following  are  the  principal : 
Cassiodorus,  Isidorus,  and  Godfrey  of  Viter- 
bo ;  to  which  may  perhaps  be  added,  the  Gcs- 
ta  Romanorum.  Cassiodorus  wrote,  at  the 
command  of  Theodoric  king  of  the  Goths,  a 
work  named  Chronicon  Breve,  beginning  from 
Adam,  and  descending  to  the  year  519 ;  which 
was  deduced  chiefly  from  Eusebiys's  Ecclesi- 
astical History,  The  Chronicles  of  Prosper 
and  Jerom,  with  AureUus  Victor's  Origin  of 
the  Roman  Nation.  A  translation  of  this 
Chronicle  into  Italian,  by  Ludovico  Dolce, 
was  printed  in  1561. 

Isidorus,  called  Hispalensis,  who  florished 
in  the  seventh  century,  framed  from  the  last 
author,  d,  Cronicori  from  Adam,  to  the  time  of 
the  emperor   Heraclius,   first  printed  ia  ^e 

VOL.  I.  P 


^10  THE  FRUIT  OF  ^TIMES. 

Tear  ]477..  Tliis  also  was  translated  into  Ita- 
lian,  under  the  title  of  Cronica  D'lsidoro^  in 
1480.  It  is  sometimes  called  Chronica  de  sex 
Mundi  atatibus ;  Imago  Mundi  Sf  Abreviatio 
temporum ;  by  the  last  of  which  titles,  that  of 
Fructus  Temporum,''  was  probably  suggested. 
It  was  continued  by  Isidorus  Pacensis,  from 
610  to  754;  which  continuation  was  printed  in 
16S4,  fol.  Pampelon,  under  the  title  Epitome 
Imperatorum  vel  Arabum  Ephemeridos  una  cun^ 
Hispania  Chronico, 

Isidore  also  wrote  a  History  or  Chronicle 
of  the  Goths,  from  the  year  176,  to  the  death 
of  king  Sisebut,  in  the  year  628.  It  is  to  be 
found  in  Grotius's  Collectio  rerum  Gothicarum, 
p.  707.    Amst.  1655.     8vo. 

Godfrey  of  Viterbo  was  chaplain  and  no- 
tary to  three  German  emperors,  and  died  in 
}  190.  He  compiled  in  Latin,  partly  in  prose, 
and  partly  in  verse,  a  Chronicle,  entitled  Pan- 
theon,  or  Memorim  Seculorum,  which  com- 
mences, according  to  the  established  practice 
of  the  historians  of  the  middle  ages,  with  the 
creation,  and  is  brought  down  to  the  year 
1186.  The  subject  of  the  work,  in  the  word»* 
of  the  author,  is  the  Old  and  New  Testament; 
and  all  the  emperors  and  kings,  which  have 


♦tHE  FtlUlt  OF  ttM£S.  an 

^xist^d  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  his 
own  times ;  of  whom  the  origin,  end,  names, 
and  atchicvements,  are  commemorated.  The 
authors,  to  whom  this  Chronicler  is  indebted 
for  his  materials,  are  Josephus,  Dion  Cassius^ 
Strabo,  Orosius,  Hegesippus,  Suetonius,  So- 
linus,  and  Julius  Africaaus ;  among  whom  it 
is  observable,  there  is  not  one  of  the  purer 
Roman  historians.  The  same  author  wrote 
also  another  Chronicle,  called  Speculum  jRe-» 
gurriy  or  the  "  Mirror  of  Kings,'*  containing  a 
genealogy  of  the  potentates,  Trojan  and  Ger- 
man, from  Noah's  flood,  to  the  reign  of  the 
emperor  Henry  VI.  from  the  Chronicles  of  Ve- 
nerable Bede,  Eusebius,  and  Ambrosius. 

Warton  supposes  the  oldest  edition  of  Gesta 
Romanoi'um  to  be  that  entitled  IncipiurU  Hys" 
iarie  Notabiles,  collecte  ex  Gestis  Romanorum,  et 
quibusdam  aliis  libris  cum  applicatidnibus  eoruri'* 
dem.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  printed  be- 
fore, or  about  the  year  147?.  Several  other 
editions  succeeded ;  after  which,  an  English 
translation  of  it  was  printed  by  Wynkyn  de 
Worde,  without  date ;  and  afterward*  was  pub- 
lished, "  A  Record  of  ancient  Histories,  in  La- 
tin, Ges^a  Romanorum,  perused,  corrected,  and 
bettered,  by  R.  Robinson,  Lond.  1577."    This 

p2 


212  THt  TRtlT  OFTlMESf. 

book  is  remarkable  for  containing  the  story 
of  the  Three  Casketts,  in  Shakespear's  Mer- 

# 

chants  of  Venice.  The  facts  it  records  are 
true  and  partly  fabulous ;  but  the  compiler  is 
partly  unknown. 

As  I  have  extracted  so  largely  from  the 
"  English  Chronicle,"  I  shall  give  from  this 
merely  the  short  account  of  Pope  Joan,  which 
is  found  near  the  end  of  the  fifth  part. 

Johannes  AnglkvSy  of  the  nation-  of  Majuntin,  about 
this  time  was  pope.  And  she  was  a  woman,  arrayed 
in  man's,  garments ;  but  she  profitted  so  in  holy 
scripture,  that  there  was  found  none  like  her.  Then 
she  was  chosen  pope  ;  but  afterwards  sh%  was  with 
child.  And  when  she  should  haVe  gone  openly  in 
-procession,  she  travailed  and  deceased.  And  this  is 
the  sixth  pop^,  the  which  to  this  time  had  the  name 
of  holiness,  and  were  vicious. ,  And' this  person,  as 
other  popes  were,  was  punished  of  God,  ite  «he  was 
not  numbered  in  the  book  of  popes. 


These  cdmprehensive  Chronicles,  were  so 
multiplied  in  the  middle  ages,  as  to  supersede 
the  classics,  and  other  established  authors, 
whoi^e  materials  they  abridged.    The  plati  of 


THE  FRWLT  OP  TIMES.  213 

the  epitomizers  was,  to  select  those   stories 
only  which  suited  the  taste  of  the  age ;  and 
thus  furnished  their  co*temporaries  with  abun- 
dance  of  marvellous  and  delectable  histories, 
designed  less  to  give  information,  than  to  gra- 
tify that  passion  of  wonderment,  which  charac- 
terises an  uncultivated  state  of  society.    These 
histories,  which  were  totally  devoid  of  taste  and 
appropriate  phraseology,    contributed  greatly 
to  retard  the  improvement  of  the  language; 
and  particularly    by  precluding  attention  to 
classical  literature,  which  furnishes  the  exactest 
models  of  refined  taste,  and  of  correct  and  ele- 
gant composition.     Still,  however,  it  must  be 
admitted,  that   they  had  their  uses  in  those 
rude  periods.     They  had  the  effect  of  weaning 
men's  minds  from  the  perusal  of  legends,  the 
dullness  of  which  is  only  surpassed  by  their  ab- 
surdity ;  and   of  alluring   them  by  degrees  to 
the  study, of  real  and  rational  history.      At 
length  was  awakened  the  curiosity  to  obtain 
an  accurate  knowledge  of  historic  transactions, 
which  led  to  the  examination  of  original  au- 
thors, the  genuine  sources  of  authentic  histo- 
ry.    There   are   some   reasons   too,    why  the 
compositions  in  question  ought  not  to  be  over- 
looked even  by  more  polished    ages.    They 


214 


THE  FRUIT  OF  TXMBS, 


contain  curious  pictures  of  the  ignorance  and 
credulity  of  our  ancestors ;  and  what  is  of  still 
greater  consequence,  they  often  preserve  facts 
derived  from  books  which  have  perished.  It 
is  conjectured  with  reason,  that  their  plan  of 
deducing  a  perpetual  history  from  the  creatioi^ 
to  the  writer's  time,  was  borrowed  partly  from 
Ovid,  and  partly  from  the  Bible, 


(    215    ) 


THE  GOLDEN  LEGEND. 


Legenda  Aurea, 


*'  Wherein  been  contained  all  the  high  and 
great  feasts  of  our  Lord ;  the  feasts  of  our 
Tblessed  Lady ;  the  lives,  passions,  and  miracles 
of  many  other  saints ;  and  other  histories  and 
acts.  Finished  at  Westminster,  by  William 
C!axton,  1483. — ^This  is  the  first  edition  of  the 
Golden  Legend,  irf  English.  It  was  taken  (as 
Caxton  himself  informs  us)  from  three  several 
books — one  in  French,  called  La  Legend 
d'oree ;  another  in  Latin ;  and  a  third  in  Eng- 
lish. Hence  it  appears,  that  his  was  not  the 
first  English  version.  These  different  copies 
varied  in  divers  places.  In  particiilar,  the 
Latin  and  French  x^opies,  contained  many  his- 
tories, not  to  be  foimd  in  the  English  one.  Oa 
this  account  Caxton  says,  ^'  1  have  written 
one  out  of  the  said  three  books,  which  I  have 


\ 


216  THE  GOLDEN  LEGEND. 

ordered  otherwise  than  the  said  English  Le- 
gend, which  was  so  tofore  made."  In  the 
following  editions  several  of  the  lives  and  his- 
tories are  differently  disposed.  The  edition 
of  which  we  are  speaking,  begins  with  the 
advent,  nativity,  &c.  of  our  Lord ;  and  has  at 
the  end,  "  The  noble  History  of  the  £xposi« 
tion  of  the  Mass,  and  the  Twelve  Articles  of 
our  Faith,"  which  are  wanting  in  the  follow- 
ing editions;  but,  like  the  rest,  h  concludes 
with  ^^  The  life  of  the  holy  Bishop  ^Ed^s- 
mus." 

Another  edition  of  this  work  was  printed  by 
Caxton  the  same  year ;  another  by  Julian  No- 
tary, in  1503 ;  and  a  fourth,  by  Wynkin  de 
Wofde.  In  this  last  edition  we  are  told^ 
that  it  was  stiled,  "  The  Golden  Legend,'^ 
because,  "  That  as  gold  passeth  all  other 
metals  in  value,  so  this  Legend  excelled 
all  other  books."  We  are  informed  also,  that 
''  it  hath  been  diligently  amended  in  divers 
places,  whereas  great  need  was.  Finished 
27th  day  of  August,  the  year  of  our  Lord, 

1527" 

The  ^word  Legend  was  employed  originally 
to  signify  a  book,  formerly  used  in  the  Romish 
churches,  containing  the  lessons  to  be  read  in 


THE  GOLDEN  LEGEND.  2i7 

divine  service.  Hence,  it  was  transferred  to 
the  Jives  of  saints  and  martyrs ;  because  from 
these  Legends,  the  chapters  were  read  at  ma- 
tins, and  in  the  refectories  of  the  religious 
houses. 

Tlie  first  known  'Legend  was  in  Greek,  and 
written  by  Simon  Metaphrastus,  in  the  tenth 
century.  It  contained  the  lives  of  saints, 
adapted  to  every  day  in  the  year.  The  next 
was  the  Golden  Legend,  written  in  Latin,  and 
containing  a  collection  of  the  lives  of  Saints. 
It  was  compiled  by  James  de  Varase,  better 
known  by  his  Latin  name  of  J.  de  Foraginef 
vicar-general  of  the  Dominicans,  and  after- 
wards archbishop  of  Genoa^  who  died  in  1298. 
It  was  eagerly  received  into  the  church,  where 
it  maintained  its  reputation  for  a  period  of  tWQ 
hundrfed  years. 

The  Golden  Legend  was  translated  into 
French  by  Jehan  de  Vignay,  a  monk  hospi- 
taller, about  the  year  1332.  It  was  humour-f 
ously  stiled,  by  the  learned  Claude  Espence 
Legenda  Ferrea^^.^s  Tliuanus  reports ;  but  hia 
temerity  subjected  him  to  a  public  recantatigq 
iathe  year  1555, 


218  THE   GOLDEN  LEGEND. 

Legend  of  Sl  Dominic. 

Dominic,  was  duke  of  the  order  of  the  Friars 
preachers,  and  a  noble  father  of  the  parts  of  Spain, 
of  a  town  named  Callorega,  of  the  diocese  of  Oxony- 
ense ;  aDd  his  father  was  named  Felix,  and  his  mo- 
ther Johane,  of  whom  he  came  as  of  the  flesh.  And 
his  mother  tofbre  that  he  was  bom,  saw  in  her  sleep 
that  she  bare  a  little  whelp  in  her  belly,  which  bare 
a  brenning  brond  in  his  mouth ;  and  when  he  was  is- 
sued out  of  her  womb,  he  brent  all  the  world. 

And  also  it  seemed  to  a  woman,  that  was  godmo- 
ther to  him  at  the  font,  and  held  him,  that  the 
child  Dominic  had  a  star  right  clear  in  his  forehead, 
which  enlumined  all  the  world.     *     »     «     »     ♦     * 

And  then  began  he  to  think  of  the  establishment 
of  his  order,  and  of  what  office  it  might  be,  for  to 
go  and  preach  thro'  the  world,  and  for  to  en- 
hance the  Christian  faith  against  the  heretics* 
And  when  he  had  dwelled  ten  year  in  the  parts  of 
Thoulouse,  after  the  death  of  the  bishop  of  Oxony- 
ense,  unto  the  time  that  the  council  should  be  so- 
lemniaed  at  LatriEinense ;  then  he  went  to  Rome, 
with  Faucon,  bishop  of  Thoulouse,  to  the  council 
general,  for  to  get  of  Innocent,  the  pope,  that  thfe 
order,  which  is  said  the  order  of  the  preachers,  might 
be  confirmed  to  him  and  to  his  successors.  And  the 
pope  would  not  lightly  ^cord  to  this  thing.    And 


'tten  rl  happened  on  a  night,  that  the  pope  saw  in  a 
Tision,  that  the  church  of  Latranense  was  suddenly 
menaced  for  to  fall  and  overthrow.  And  as  he  be- 
held it  all  aftrdcy  he  saw  on  that  other  side,  St.  Do- 
)ninic  renning  against  it,  and  sustained  and  bare  it 
up,  and  kept  it  yro  falling.  And /then  awoke  the 
pope,  and  understood  the  vision,  and  received  joy- 
ously the  petition  of  the  man  of  God,  and  bad  that 
he  and  his  brethren  should  seek  some  rule  approved, 
and  he  would  confirm  it  as  his  will. 

And  then  St.  Dominic  came  to  his  brethren,  and 
$hewed  to  them  what  the  pope  had  said ;  and  they 
were  of  number  about  sixteen  'or  seventeen  friars, 
which  anon  called  council  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
chose  the  rule  of  St.  Austin,  preacher  and  holy  doc- 
tor, and  would,  of  one  will,  be  in  deed  and  name 
preachers ;  and  established  therewith  some  customs 
piore  straiter  in  their  living,  which  they  took  above, 
and  promised  to  keep  them  truly. 

In  tMs  time,  Innocent,  the  pope,  died ;  and  Ho- 
norius  was  made  pope,  and  sovereign  bishop  of  the 
church ;  and  he  gat  of  the  same  Honorius,  the  con-« 

lirmation  of  his  order,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  12  iff. 

•         «■*         •         «         «,        «         • 

/ 

0 

There  was  a  scholar  in-  the  house  of  the  friar$ 
at  Boloyne,  for  to  hear  niass.     And  it  happened  that 
St.  Dominic  sang  the  mass.     And  when  it  came  to  * 
the  offering,  the  scholar  went  and  kissed  the  hand  of 


2^  THE  GOLl>SK  LEGEKDv 

St.  DoJKinic,  with  great  devotion.  And  when  he 
had  ki^ssed  it,  he  feU.  come  out  of  his  hand  so  great 
sweetness,  and  so  sweet  an  odour,  as  he  ever  had 
felt  tofore  in  his  life.  And  fro  then  forth  on,  the  ar- 
dour and  brenning  of  lechery  began  ta  wax  cold  in 
him,  so  that  he  which  tofore  had  been  vain  and 
lecherous,  was  after  so  continent,  thathis  flesh  shone 
all  of  clearness  and  chastity.  And  the  flesh  of  St 
Dominic,  shone  much  of  great  chastity  arid  purity, 

of  whom  the  odour  cured  the  filths  of  the  thought. 

m         «         •*•         4f         #         « 

He  came  to  his  last  hour,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1221;  and  so  slept  in  our  Lord  Jesu  Christ,  whose 
departing  out  of  this  world  was  shewed  the  same 
day,  and  the  same  hour,  to  the  friar  general,  then 
prior,  of  the  preachers  of  Brixia.  And  afterward 
to  the  bishop  of  the  same  city  in  this  manner.  For 
as  he  slept  a  light  sleep,  the  head  inclined  to  a  wall, 
he  saw  the  heaven  open,  and  put  down  to  the  earth 
two  white  ladders,  of  which  Jesu  Christ  and  his  mother 
held  tl:^e  end  on  high.  And  the  angels  descended 
and  ascended,  by  the  ladders,  singing.  In  the  midst 
of  the  ladders,  there  was  a  seat  set ;  and  upon  the 
seat  sat  St.  Dominic,  with  his  head  covered  like  a 
friar.  And  Jesu  Christ  and  his  mother,  drew  up  the 
ladders  into  heaven  so  high,  that  he  that  sat  was  lift  up 
into  heaven,  and  then  the  opening^<5f  heaven  was  sheet  \ 

jrfiuu 


THE  GOLDEN  LfiGEND.  221 

and  closed*  And  then  the  same  friar  came  to  Bo« 
logne,  and  found  that  the  same  day,  and  the  same 
hour,  St.  Dominic  died. 


St.  Francis f  Founder  of  the  Friars  Minors. 

Francis,  servant  and   friend  of   Almighty  God, 

was  born  in  the  city  of  Assyse^  and  was  made  a 

merchant  unto  the  25th  year  of  hrs  age,  and  wasted 

his  time  by  living  vainly,  whom  our  Lord  corrected 

by  the  scourge  of  sickness,  and  suddenly  changed 

him  into  another  man ;  so  that  he  began  to  shine  by 

the  spirit  of  prophecy.     For  on  a  time,  he,  with 

other  men  of  Peruse,  was  taken  prisoner,  and  were 

put  in  a  cruel  prison,  where  all  the  other  wailed  and 

sorrowed,  and  he  only  was  glad  and  enjoyed.     And 

when  they  had  reprcved^  him  thereof,  he  answered — 

Know  ye,  said  i;ie,  that  I  am  joyful :  for  I  shall  be 

worshipped  as  a  saint  throughout  all  the  world. 
♦         *•**#♦♦ 

On  a  time  as  this  holy  man  was  in  prayer,  the 
devil  called  him  thrice  by  his  own  name.  And 
when  the  holy  man  had  answered  him,  he  said,  none 

* 

in  this  world  is  so  great  a  sinner,  but  if  he  convert 
him,  our  Lord  would  pajxion  him;  but  who  that 
sleeth  himself  with' hard  penance,  shall  never  find 
mercy.    And  anon,  this  holy  man  knew  by  revela- 

*  reproved. 


262  THE  GOLDEN  tEGEl^D. 

tion   the  fallacy  and  deceit  of  the  fiendj^  how  he 
would  have  withdrawn  him  fro  to  do  well.     And 
when    the   devil  saw    that  he  might  not    prevail 
against;  him,   he  tempted  him  by  grievous  tempta- 
tion of  the  flesh.     And  when  this  holy   sei'vant  of 
God  felt  that,  he  despoiled^  his  cloaths,  and  beat 
himself  right  hard  with  an  hard  cord,  saying,  "  Thus, 
brother  ass,  it  behoveth  thee  to  remain  and  to  be 
beaten."     And  when  the  temptation  departed  not, 
he   went  out  and  plunged  himself  in  the  snow,  all 
naked,  and  made  seven  great  balls  of  snow,  and  pur- 
posed to  have  taken  them  into  *  his  body,  and  said, 
"  This  greatest  is  thy  wife;  and  these  four,  two  ben 
thy  daughters,    and  two  thy  sohs ;  and  the    other 
twain,  that  one  thy  chambrere,  and  that  other   thy 
varlet  or  yeman  ;  haste  and  clothe  them :  for  they  all 
die  for  cold.     And  if  thy  business  that  thou  hast 
about  them,  grieve  ye  sore,,  then  serve  our  Lord  per- 
fectly.    And  anon,  the  devil  departed  from  him  all 
confused ;  and  St.  Francis  returned  again  unto  his 
cell,  glorifying  God.         •  *         *  •  ♦ 

He  was  enobledinhis  life  by  many  miracles  *  « 
and  the  very  death,  which  is  to  all  men  horrible  and 
hateful,  he  admonished  them  to  praise  it.  And  also 
he  warned  and  admonished  death  to  come  to  him, 
and  said,  "  Death,  niy  sister,  welcome  be  you." 
And  when  he  came  at  the  last  hour,  he  slept  in  our, 

'  took  off.  » unto. 


THE  GOLDEN   LEGEND.  £25 

tiOrd  ;  of  whom  a  friar  saw  the  soul,  in  manner 
of  a  star,  like  to  the  moon  in  quantity,  and  the  sun 
in  clearness. 


St>  Bernard, 

Was  bom  in  Bourgoyne,  in  the  castle  of  Fontaines, 
of  noble  lineage  and  much  religious,  whose  father 
hyght  Celestyn,  and  was  a  noble  knight  of  the 
world,  and  much  religious  to  God.  And  his  mo- 
ther was  named  Aleth  ;  and  she  had  seven  children, 
six  males,  and  one  female.  And  the  men  children, 
she  nourished' all  for  to  be  monks,  and  the  daughter 
for  to  bea  nun,  &c.  And  as  she  bare  the  third  s6n 
in  her  belly,  which  was  Bernard,  she  saw  in  her 
sleep,  a  dream,  which  was  a  demonstrance  of  things 
to  come.  Her  seemed  that  she  had  in  her  belly,  a 
whelp  all  white  and  red  upon  the  back,  barking  in 
her  belly.  And  when  she  had  told  her  dream  to  an 
holy  man,  he  answered  to  her  prophesying.  "  Thou 
art  mother  of  a  right  noble  whelp,  which  shall  be 
a  warden  to  the  house  of  God,^  and  shall  give  great 
barkings  against  the  enemies  :  for  he  shall  be  a  no- 
ble preacher,  and  shall  guarish  *  by  the  grace  of  his 
tongue.         *  *  «         ♦         #         «         * 

And  when  the  ancient  enemy  saw  the  good  pur* 

»  gucrir ;   cure  ? 


fS4  tHE  GOLDEN  LEGEND. 

pose  of  the  child  full  of  health,  he  bent  agaihst 
him  many  gins  of  temptation.  And  on  a  time,  whert 
that  he  had  holden  eyen^^  and  fixed  them  upon  a  wo- 
man, he  bad  anon  shame  in  himself,  and  was  a  cruel 
venger  of  himself:  for  he  lept  anon  into  a  pond  full 
of  water  and  frozen ;  and  he  was  therein  so  long, 
that  almost  he  was  frozen,  and  by  the  grace  of  God, 
he  was  cooled  from  the  heat  of  carnal  concupi- 
scence. 

About  that  time,  by  instigation  of  the  devil,  a 
maid  laid  her  in  his  bed  by  him,  all  naked, .  there 
where  he  slept.  And  when  he  felt  her,  he  let  her  lye 
m  the  same  aide  of  the  bed  that  she  had  taken,  and 
turned  him  to  that  other  side,  and  slept.  And 
she  tarried  a  space  of  time,  and  felt  him,  and 
ketyldc^  him,  and  would  have  drawn  him  to  her  en- 
tent.  And  at  the  last,  when  she  felt  him  unmove- 
able,  tho'  she  were  Unshamefast,  yet  she  was  ashamed, 
and  all  confused  arose  and  went  her  way. 

Another  time,  as  he  was  harboured  in  the  hoiise 
of  a  lady,  she  considered  the  beauty  of  this  young 
man,  and  was  greatly  chafed,  and  strongly  desired 
his  company.  And  then  she  ordained  a  bed  out 
from  the  other ;  and  in  the  night  she  arose  without 
shame,  and  came  secretly  to  -  him.  And  when  he 
fdt  her,  he  cried,  *"  thieves!  theives!"  And  she 
fled  and  light  a  candle  herself,  and  sought  the  thief; 

•tickled? 


THE  GOLDEN  LEGEND.  225 

and  none  was  found.  And  then  each  man  went  to 
his  hed  again ;  but  this  unhappy  woman  rested  not ; 
but  she  arose  again,  and  went  to  the  bed  of  Bernard, 
as  she  did  tofore.  And  he  cried  again,  "  thieves  ! 
thieves !"  And  the  thief  was  sought,  but  he  was  not 
found,  ne  published  of  him,  which  knew  her  well. 
And  yet  was  she  chafed  the  third  time ;  and  then 
with  great  pain  she  ceased,  what  for  dread  and  de  • 
spair.  And  on  the  morrow,  as  they  went  by  the 
way,  his  fellows  repreved  him  of  that  he  had  so 
dreamed  of  thieves,  and  inquired  of  him  what  it  was  ? 
And  he  answered,  verily,  I  have  suffered  this  night, 
the  assailings  of  a  thief:  for  mine  hostess  enforced  to 
take  away^ro  me,  treasure  not  recoverable. 


These  extracts  will  suffice  to  give  the  reader 
an  idea  of  the  ignorance  and  superstition  which 
prevailed  in  the  dark  ages.  Such  were  the 
tales  invented  and  propagated  by  the  monks, 
partly  with  pious,  and  partly  with  politic  de- ' 
signs,  which  they  imposed  upon  the  people  as 
genuine  history,  and  which  were  received  by 
them  with  eager  and  devout  credulity. 


VOL.  I. 


EftljarU  III, 


«2 


/ 


»       * 


/■ 


(    ^29    ) 


THE  BOOK  OF 

THE  ORDER  OF  CHIVALRY, 

OR 

KNIGHTHOOD. 


This  book  w^s  translated  from  the  French^ 
and  printed  by  Caxton.  ,  It  is  a  thin  qUarto, 
and  without  a  date^  though  it  is  supposed  to 
have  been  printed  about  the  year  1484^ 

It  is  divided  into  eight  chapters.  The  1st 
shews  how  a  knight,  who  was  a  hermit,  be- 
stowed this  rule,  or  order  of  chivalry,  upon  a 
squire.  The  2d  treats  of  the  original  of  chival- 
ry, or  knighthood.  3.  Of  the  office  of  chi- 
valry. 4.  Of  the  examination  that  ought  to  be 
made  of  the  esquire,  when  he  enters  into  the 
order.  5.  In  what  manner  the  squire  ought 
to  receive  chivalry.  6L  Of  the  signefyaunce  of 
the  arms  belonging  to  a  knight.  7*  Of  the 
customs  that  appertain  to  a  knight.  8.  Of  the 
honours  that  ought  to  be  done  to  a  knight. 


230  TH(B  book:  of  TlfE 

The  following  is  a  short  abstract  of  the  first 
chapter,  declaring  how  a  good  hermit  devised 
to  the  esquire,  the  rule  and  order  of  chival- 
ry:-- 

A  certain  knight,  who  had  grown  old  in 
deeds  of  war,  and  feats  of  chivalry,  had  retired 
from  tlie  world,  that  he  might  consecrate  the 
remainder  of  his  days  to  acts  of  devotion,  in  a 
deep  and  venerable  forest.  Some  king,  '*  noble, 
wise,  and  full  of  good  customs,"  having  pro- 
claimed a  court  general,  for  the  purpose  of 
being  made  himself  a  new  knight,  and  a^er« 
wsurds  of  making  others,  a  certain  esquire,  am- 
bitious of  the  honouf  of  knighthood,  immedi- 
ately set  out  on  hisjouRiey  thiithe  may  re- 
ceive it  on  thi«  ilkstwHs  occas^n.  As  he 
proceeded  on  his  solitary  way,  h^  wai  over- 
come by  the  fatigues  of  his  journey ;  and  fkU- 
ing  asleep, .  his  horse  deviated  from  the  right 
tract,  and  accidentally  carried  him  into  the 
forest  inhabited  by  the  hermit-knight. 

The  liermit,  who  was  offering  up  his  ori- 
sons by  the  aide  of  a  fountain,  the  accustomed 
scene  of  his  devotions,  t)n  perceiving  the  ap- 
proach of  a  horseman,  rose,  and  awaited  himf 
under  the  shadow  of  a  tree ;  at  the  same  time 
yeading  m  a  little  book  placed  upon  his  lap* 


OftD^R  OF  CttlVAlRY.  2^1 

llie  palfrey  stopping  at  the  fountain  to 
tlrink,  the  esquire  suddenly  awoke,  and  hav* 
ing  alighted;  the  old  knight  approached  him, 
and  they. both  sat  down  together  on  the  grass. 
After  spending  some  time  in  silent  expressions 
of  mtitual  surprise  at  their  unexpected  rencon- 
tre, the  hermit  inquired  the  reason  of  his  visit. 
Bein^  satisfied  as  to  this  point,  and  moreover, 
'^  when  the  khight  heard  speak  of  the  knight- 
hood and  chivalry,  and  remembered  him  of  the 
order  of  the  same,  and  of  that  which  apper-" 
taineth  to  a  knight,  he  cast  out  a  great  sigh> 
and  Entered  in  a  great  thought,  remembering 
t«f  the  honour  in  which  chivalry  had  been  long 
maintained." 

The  esquire  inquired  the  cause  of  hi^  reve- 
rie, ^nd  being  informed,  intreated  the  knight 
that  he  would  instruct  him  in  the  rule  and  or* 
der  6f  knighthood.  The  knight  expressed  his 
surprise  that  a  candidate  for  the  honour  of  chi- 
valry should  have  neglected  to  study  its  pre-^ 
cepts.  *^  I  naarvel  (says  he)  how  thou  darest 
demand  chivalry  or  knighthood,  unto  the 
time  that  thou  know  the  order :  for  no  knight 
may  riot  love  the  order,  ne  that  which  apper- 
taineth  to  this  order,  bttt  if  he  cati  know  the 
"de&ttlts  thai  he  doth  against  the  order  of  chi** 


232  THE  BOOK  OF  THE 

valry ;  we  no  knight  ought  to  make  any  knights, 
but  if  he  himself  know  the  order :  for  a  disor- 
dinate  knight  is  he  that  maketh  a  knight  and 
cannot  shew  the  order  to  him,  ne  the  custom 
of  chivalry." 

The  esquire  now  renewing  his  request  to 
be  instructed  in  the  order,  "^Friend,  (said 
the  knight,)  the  rule  and  order  of  chivalry, 
is  written. in  this  little  book  that  I  hold  here  in 
mine  hands,  in  which  I  read,  and  am  busy 
sometime,  to  the  end  that  it  make  me  remem- 
ber or  think  on  the  grace  and  bounty  that  God 
hath  given  and  done  to  me  in  this  world;  be- 
.cause  that  I  honoured  and  maintained  with  all 
my  power  the  order  of  chivalry  :  for  all  in  like 
wise  as  chivalry  giveth  to  a  knight  all  that  to 
him  appertaineth,  in  like  wise  a  knight  ought 
to  give  all  his  forces  for  to  honour  chivalry." 

Having  said  this,  he  presented  the  little 
book  to  the  esquire,  who  receiving  it  with  the 
warmest  demonstrations  of  respect  and  grati- 
tude,  departed  on  his  destined  journey. 


Of  the  beginning  of  Chivalry,-^  Chap,  22. 

When  charity,  loyalty,  truth,  justice,  and  verity 
fail  in  the  world,  then  beginneth  cruelty,  injuiy. 


ORDER  OV  CHIVALRY.  !2t35 

« 

disloyalty,  ahd  falseness.  And  therefore'  was  error 
and  trouble  in  the  world,  in  which  God  hath  created 
man,  in  intention  that  of  the  man  he  be  known  and 
l&ved,  doubted^  served,  and  honoured.  At  the  be- 
ginning, when  to  the  world  was  come  fm$ptision\ 
justice  returned  by  dread  into  honour,  in  which  she 
was  wont  to  be ;  and  therefore  all  the  people  was  di- 
vided by  thousands.  And  of  each  thousand  was 
chosen  a  man  most  loyal,  niost  strong,  and  of  most 
noble  courage,  and  better  ensigtied^  and  mannered 
than  all  the  other. 

And  after  was  enquired  and  searched^  what  beast 
^as  most  covenable,  most  fair,  most  courageous,  and 
tnost  strong,  to  sustain  travail,  and  most  able  to 
serve  the  man.  And  then  was  founden  that  the  hoi-sc 
was  the  most  noble,  and  the  most  cwenable  to  serve 
man.  And  because  that  among  all  the  beasts,  the 
man  ckaas'^  the  horse,  and  gfl/'*  him  to  this  same 
man  that  was  so  chosen  o^mong  a  thousand  men :  for 
after  tke  horse,  which  is  called  cheval  in  French,  is 
that  man  named  Qhkdkry  which  is  a  knight  in  Eng- 
lish. Thus  to  the  most  noble  man  was  given  the 
most  nol)le  beast. 

It  behoveth  after  this,  that  there  should  be  chosen 
all  the  armours,  such  as  ben  most  nobl^  and  most  co- 
venable  to  battle,  and  defend  the  man  fro  death.  And 
these  armours  were  given  and (qtpropred^  to  the  knighti 

1  feared.        « contempt.        3Uught.        <  chose.    'g«vc.^^ 

*  appropriated. 


^4  tkE  BOOK  OF  TliE 

Th^  who  that  wUl  ^ter  into  the  order  of  chival* 
ty,  he  must  think  on  the  noble  beginning  of  chivalry^ 
And  him  behoveth  that  the  noblesse^ ^  of  his  courage 
in  good  customs,  a<icbrd  to  the  beginning  of  chivalry  i 
for  if  ,it  were  not  soj  he  should  be  contrary  to  his  or* 
der  and  his  beginnings ;  and  therefore  it  is  not  cdt>e^ 
noble  thing  that  the  order  of  chivalry  receive  his  ene^ 
tnies  in  honours.        *        *        *        ♦        »        * 

Beware  thou  squire,  that  wot  enter  into  the  order 
ti  chivalry,  What  thou  shalt  do :  for  if  thou  be  a 
knight,  thou  receivest  honour  and  the  servitude  that 
mast  be  had  unto  the  friends  of  chivalry ;  for  of  so 
mUch  as  thou  hast  more  noble  beginning,  and  hast 
fiiore  honour,  of  so  much  art  thou  more  bond  and 
bounden  te  be  good  and  agreeable  to  God^  and  also 
fo  the  people.  And  if  thou  be  wicked^  thou  art  ene^* 
my  of  chivcdry,  su^d  art  contrary  to  his  command* 
ments  and  honours^  So  much  high,  and  so  much 
noble  is  the  order  of  chivalry,  that  rt  sufficeth  not 
that  there  be  made  knights  of  the  most  noble  per-^ 
sons,  fte  that  there  should  be  given  to  them  the  modt 
noble  beast,  and  the  beast  the  most  noble  armours^ 
and  the  beast  only ;  but  him  behoveth^  arid  it  must 
he,  that  he  be  made  lord  of  many  men :  for  in  seig- 
mory  is^  much  nobkise  ;  and  in  servitude,  as  much  of 
subjections.  Then  if  thou  take  the  order  of  knight^ 
lHK)d^  aii4  art  a  yik  man  and  wicked,  thou  dost  fptAt 

^IMitlencss; 


OtDIR  OFCRlTAtHV.  93$ 

injnry  to  uU  thy  8abj«ct8,  and  to  thy  fellows  that 
ben  good :  for  by  the  vylete '  in  which  thou  art,  if 
^OQ  be  wicked,  thou  oughtest  to  be  put  under  a  serf 
or  bondman ;  and  by  the  noblesse  of  knights  that  be 
good,  it  is  indigne^y  and  not  worthy,  that  thou  b« 
called  a  knight. 

Election,  ne  horse,  ne  armours  suffice,  nor  yet  ia 
the  high  honour  which  longeth  to  a  knight ;  but  it 
behoveth  that  there  be  given  to  him  a  squire,  and 
servant  that  may  take  heed  to  his  horse.  And  it 
behoveth  also,  that  the  common  people  labour  the 
lands  for  to  bring  fruits  and  goods,  whereof  the 
knight  and  his  beasts  have  their  living ;  and  that 
the  knight  rest  him,  and  he  at  sejoume  affter  his  tUH 
bksse^  and  desport  him  upon  his  horse  for  to  hunt/ 
or  in  other  manner  after  that  it  shall  please  him  ^ 
and  that  he  ease  him  and  delight  in  things,  of  which 
his  men  have  pain  and  travail. 

The  clerks  study  in  doctrine  and  science,  how 
they  may  eotme  knaw^  God,  and  love  him  and  hi» 
woricS)  to  the  end  that  they  give  doctrine  to  the  peo*' 
pie  lay  and  bestial,  by  good  example,  to  know,  lovoy 
serve,  and  do  hmiour  God,  our  glorious  Lord.  Fot 
to  the  end  that  th^  may  ordinately  do  these  things,' 
they  f^low  aad  ensue  the  schools.        •      #     »     ♦ 

The  science  and  the  school  of  the  order  of  chi* 
vijfcy  is,  that  the  kni^t  make  his  son  to  l«ar%  in 

I  Vil€nes5.        ^  unworthy,        3  be  »ble  taltooWf 


tSQ  THE  BOOK  OF  THE 

his  youth,  to  ride:  {ot  if  he  learn  not  in  his  youths 
he  shall  never  learn  it  in  his  old  age.  And  it  beho- 
veth  that  the  son  of  a  knight,  in  the  time  that  he  is 
esquire,  can  take  keeping  of  horse ;  and  him  beho- 
veth  that  he  serve,  and  that  he  be  first  subject,  or^ 
he  be  lord :  for  otherwise  should  he  not  know  the 
nMeise  of  the  seignory,  when  he  should  be  a  knight. 
And,  therefore,  every  man  that  will  come  to  knight- 
hood, him  behoveth  to  learn  in  his  yosth,  to  eas'^e^ 
at  the  table;  to  serve  to  arm;  and  to  adovbc\   a 

knight. 

•  •  •  #  ♦ 

So  much  is  high  and  honoured  the  order  of  chi- 
valry, that  to  a  squire,  ne,  sufficeth  not  only  to 
keep  horse,  and  learn  to  serve  a  knight,  and  that  he 
go  with  him  to  tourneys  and  battles ;  but  it  is  need* 
ful  that  there  be  holden  te  him  a  school  of  the  or- 

* 

der  of  knighthood,  and  that  the  science  were  written 
in  books,  and  that  the  art  were  shewed  and  read  in 
such  manner  as  other  sciences  hen  read;  and  that" 
the  sons  of  knights  learn  first  the  science  that  ap- 
pertaineth  to  the  order  of  chivalry.  And  after  that 
they  were  esquires,  they  should  ride  thrcf  divers  coun* 
tries  with  the  knights.  And  if  there  were  none  er- 
ror in  the  clerks,  and  in  the  knights,  unneth  should 
there  be  any  in  other  people :  for  by  the  clergy,  they 
should  have  devotion,  and  love  to  God ;  and  by  the 

^erej  before.  *dubb* 


ORDER  OF  CHIVALRY.  M7 

knights,  they  should  doubt '  to  do  wrong,  treason  ami 
karate*  the  one  to  another. 


Chap,  3— Of  the  Office  of  a  Knight. 

The  office  of  a  knight  is  to  maintain  and  defend 
the  holy  faith  catholic.  •  *  *  ♦  So  much  no- 
ble is  chivalry,  that  every  knight  ought  to  be  go- 
vernor of  a  great  country  or  land ;  but  there  ben  so 
many  knights,  that  the  land  may  not  suffice  to  sig- 
nify that  one  ought  to  be  l6rd  of  all  things.  The 
emperor  ought  to  be  a  knight,  and  lord  of  all 
knights  ;  but  because  that  the,  emperor  may  not  by 
him^self  govern  all  knights ;  him  behoveth  that  he 
have  under  him  kings  that  bm  knights,  to  the  end 
that  they  aid  and  help  to  maintain  the  order  of  chi- 
valry. And  the  kings  ought  to  have  under  them 
dukes,  earls,  viscounts,  and  other  lords.  And  un- 
der the  barons  ought  to  be  knights,  which  ought  to 
govern  them  after  the  ordinance  of  the  barons,  which 
ben  in  the  high  degree  of  chivalry  tofore  named:  for' 
to  shew  the  excellence,  seignory,  power,  and  wisdom 
of  our  Lord  God  glorious,  which  is  one  only  God  in 
Trinity,  and  cj^n  and  may  govern  all  things.     •     ♦ 

.The  office  of  a  knight  is  to  maintain  and  defend 

»  fc?in  •  barbarity  ? 


(f3^  THE  »OOK  OF  THE 

bis  ktf  d  worI<%  or  tftxrcne :  far  a  kittg,  ne  no  bigh 
baron,  hath  no  power  to  msuntain  right  wUeilesB  in 
his  men,  without  aid  ahd  help.  Then,  if  any  man 
do  against  the  comma^ment  of  his  king  or  prince, 
it  behoveth  that  the  knights  aid  their  lord,  which  is 
but  a  maa  oxdy  as  another  is;  and  therefore  the 
evil  knight,  which  sooner  helpeth  'anpther  man 
tikat  would,  put  down  his  lord  &om  the  seignory  that 
he  ought  to  have  upon  him^  he  fblloweth  not  thd  of* 
fice  by  which  he  is  called  a  knight. 

fiy  the  knights  oaght  to  be  maintatned  and  kept 
justaoe,     ^    *    Sot  to  maintain  the  order  of  knight* 
hood :  then^  to  mesprise^  and  to  leave  the  customs  of 
that  whi^rh  the  knight  'is  most  appaituUsd  to  ase^^. 
his  oi6ce!*-*-i8  hut  dedpiaing  of  the  order*  And  thus,  as^ 
all  these  things  afwresaid  app«*fai&  to  a  knigpkt,  as 
touehing  his  body ;  in  like  wise  justice,  wisdom^  cha* 
rity,,  loyaltiy,.  verity,  humility,  strength,  hope,  swift- 
ness, and  ail  other  virtues  semblabU^  app^tain  ta 
a-  kni^t  as  touching  his   soul;  and  therefore  the 
konght  that  useth  the  things  that  appertain:  to  the 
offdes  of  chivalry,  as  touching  his  body,  and  hath  none 
of  these  vidaies  that  appertain  to  chivalry,  touching 
his.  aoul,  is  not  the  friend  of  the  order  of  knighthood : 
f»r  if  it  were  thus  tihat  he  made  separation  of  the 
virtues  above-said,  saying  that  they  appertein  not 
to  the  soulv  and  to  the  order  of  chivalry  together,  it 

Impose,  *siiniliir. 


OttDER  OP  CHIVALRY,  fid& 

cbould  signify  that  the  body  and  chivalry  were  both 
t^o  together,  contrary  to  the  soul,  and  to  these  vu^ 
tues  ;  and  that  is  false. 

The  office  of  a  knight  is  to  maintain  the  land. 
*  *  *  *  A  noble  kiught  that  loveth  chivalry, 
how  much  less  he  hath  aid  of  his  fellows,  and  less 
of  arm^,  and  less  to  defend;  so  much  more  him  be- 
hoveth  to  enforce  himself  to  have  the  office  of  a 
knight  by  hardiness  of  a  strong  courage,  and  of  no* 
ble  appearance,  against  them  that  ben  contrary  to 
chivaliy.  And  if  he  die  to  maintain  chivalry,  then 
he  acquireth  chiv£(,lry  in  that  in  which  he  may  the 
better  love  and  serve  it :  for  chivalry  abideth  not  so 
agreeably  in  no  place  as  in  noi)t€sse  of  courage.  An<t 
no  man  may  more  honour  and  love  chivalry,  ne 
Tobre  fOT  him  may  not  be  €?o  *  than  that  dieth  for 
love,  and  for  to  honour  the  order  of  chivalry. 

Chivalry  and  hardiness  may  not  accord  without 
wit  and  discretion.  And  if  it  were  thus  that  folljr 
and  ignorance  accorded  thereto,  wit  and  discretion 
should  be  contrary  to  the  order  of  chivalry ;  and 
that  is  thing  impossible  :  by  which  is  openly  signi- 
:fi€d  to  the  knight,  that  thou  haet  great  love  to  the 
order  of  chivalry,  that  all  in  likewise  as  chivalry  by 
«o6/ewe  of  courage  hath  made  thee  to  have  hardiness, 
so  that  thou  doubt€st^  no  peril,  ne  death,  because  thou 
mightest   honour  chivalry ;   in  likewise  it  behoveth, 

»  dpnc.  '  drcad^t. 


«40  THE  BOOK  OF  THE 

that  the  order  of  chivalry  make  thee  to  love  wisdom, 
by  which  thou  mayst  love  and  honour  the  order  of 
chivalry,  against  the  disordinance  and  default  that  is 
in  them  that  wen^i*  to  ensue  and  follow  the  order  of 
chivalry  by  folly  and  ignorance,  and  without  entend^ 

The  office  of  a  knight  is  to  maintain  and  defend 
women,  widows,  and  orphans,  and  men  diseased,  and 
not  puissant  m  strong.  For,  like  as  custom  and 
reason  is,  that  the  greatest  and  most  mighty,  help 
the  feeble  and  less,  and  that  they  have  recourse  to 
the  great ;  right  so  is  the  order  of  chivalry ;  be- 
cause she  is  great,  honourable,  and  mighty,  6e^  in 
succour,  and  in  aid  to  theqi  that  bm  under  him,  and 
less  mighty  and  less  honoured  than  he  is. 

Then,  as  it  is  so,  that  for  to  do  wrong  and  force  to 
women,  widows  that  have  need  of  aid,  and  orphelins 
that  have  need  of  governance ;  and  to  rot  and  destroy 
the  feeble  that  have  need  of  strength ;  and  to  take 
away  from  them  that  is  given  to  them — these  thinp 
may  not  accord  to  the  order  of  chivalry :  for  this  is 
wickedness,  cruelty,  and  tyranny.*  And  the  knight 
that  instead  of  these  vices  is  full  of  virtues,  he  is 
digne  and  worthy  to  have  the  order  of  chivalry. 

The  office  of  a  knight  is  to  have  a  castle  and 
horse  for  to  keep  the  ways,  and  for  to  defend  them 

>  think.  « thought.  sbeing  ? 


oktoER  OF  CHIVALAY.  241 

that  labour  the  lands  and  the  earth.  And  they 
Ought  to  have  towns  and  cities  for  to  hold  right  to 
tlie  people,  and  for  to  assemble  in  a  place  m':n  of 
many  divers  crafts,  which  ben  much  necessary  to  the 
ordinance  of  this  world,  to  keep  and  maintain  the 
life  of  man  and  of  woman.         *        ♦        ♦         ♦ 

The  office  of  a  knight  is  also  to  ensearch  for 
thieves,  robbers,  and  other  wicked  folk,  for  to  make 
them  to  be  punished.  *  *  And  because  that  God 
and  chivalry  concord  together,  it  behoveth  that  false 
swearing,  and  untrue  oath  be  not  in  them  that  main- 
tain the  order  of  chivalry.  And  if- lechery  and  justice, 
accorded  together,  chivalry,  which'  accordeth  to 
justice,-  should  accord  to  lechery  ;  and  if  chivalry 
and  lechery  accorded,  chastity,  which  is  contrary  to 
lechery,  should  be  against  the  honour  of  chivalry. 
And  if  it  were  so,  that  for  to  niaintain  lechery, 
knights  were  honoured'  in  maintaining  chivalry; 
seen  that  lechery  and  justice  been  contrary,  and  that 
chivalry  is  ordained  for  to  maintain  justice* 

The  knight  ought,  and  should  be  ju^t  and  totally 
contrary  ^  to  the  end,  wherefore  the  order  of  knight- 
hood was  first  established.  And  if  justice  and  hu- 
mility  were  contrary,  chivalry,  which  accordeth  .him 
not  to  justice,  should  be  contrary  to  humility.  And 
If  he  accordeth  him  to  pride,  he  should  be  contrary 
to  humility.     And  then,  if  a  knight,  inasmuch  as 

I  directed  towards.         •    ^ 
VOL*  I.  R 


^40,  THE  BOOK  OF  THE 

he  is  proud,  maintained  chivalry,  he  corrupteth  his 
order,  which  was  begun  hy  justice  and  hulnility,  for 
to  sustain  the  humble,  and  against  the  proud:  for  if 
it  were  so,  the  knights  that  now  ben^  should  not  ben 
in  that  order  in  which  they  were  ^rst  knights ;  but 
all  the  knights  now  injurious  and  prQud,^full  of  wick- 
edness, be  not  worthy  to  chivalry^  but  oughten  to  be 
reputed  for  nought,  *  *        .     *  * 


a 


()f  the  Customs  that  appertain  to  a  Knight, "^Chap,  7» 

The  noblesse  of  courage  ha«  chosen  a  knight  to  be 
above  ,all  other  men  that  ben  under  him  in  servitude^ 
Then  noblesse  of  customs  and  good  norishments  ap- 
pertain to  a  knight :  for  noblesse  of  courage  may  not 
mount  in  the  high  honour  of  chivalry,  without  elec^ 
tion  of  virtues  and  good  customs.  Then,  as  it  is  so, 
it  behoveth  of  force  to  a  knight,  that  he  be  replenish- 
ed of  good  customs,  and  of  good  enseignments  \  Eve* 
ry  knight  ought  to  know  the  seven  virtues,  which 
ben  beginning  and  root  of  all  good  customs,  and  6^1 
the  way  and  path  of  the  cekstial  glory  perdurable. 
Of  which  seven  virtues,  the  three  ben  theologi<?al^  or 
divine ;  and  the  other  four  ben  cardinal.  The  theo- 
logical ben  faith,  hope,  and  charity  j  the  cardinal  ben 

justice,  prudence,  strength^  and  temperance. 

#         *         »         •         *         ♦       -*         # 

» in6truction«i 


ORDER  O^  CHtVAlRY.  MS 

*to  a  knight  appertaineth  that  h^  be  lover  of  com* 
mon  weal ;  for  by  the  commonalty  of  the  people  wits 
the  chivaliy  foiinden  and  established.  And  the  com<* 
tnon  weal  is  greater  and  more  necessary  than  proper 
good  and  special. 

To  a  knight  appertaineth  to  speak  nobly  and  cour« 
teously ;  and  to  have  fair  harness,  and  to  be  well 
clad, , and  ^  to  hold  a  good  household,  and  an  honest 
house :  for  all  these  things  ben  to  honour  chivalry 
necessary.  Courtesy  and  chivalry  accorden  toge^ 
ther:  for  vilainous  and  foul  words  bm  against 
the  order  of  chivalry.  FrvcaUy^  and  acquaintance  of 
good  folk,  loyalty  and  truth,  hardiness,  largcs8\  ho" 
tiesty,  humility,  pity,  and  the  other  things  semblabli 
to  these,  appei^tain  to  chivalry* 


At  the  end  is  an  epilogue  of  Caxton,  who^ 
after  explaining  the  origin  of  the  translation, 
breaks  forth  into  an  X3nth'usiastic  commenda* 
tion  of  chivalry.    It  is  worth  transcribing : — 

Here  endeth  the  book  of  "  The  Order  of  Chivalry,** 
which  book  is  translated  out  of  French  into  English, 
at  a  request  of  a  gentle  and  noble  esquire,  by  me, 
William  Caxton,  dwelling  in    Westminster,  beside 

*  intimacy*  ^beneficence. 

r2 


S44  THE  BOOK  0¥  THE 

London,  in  the  most  best  wise  that  God  hath  suffer^ 
ed  me,  and  according  to  the  copy,  that  the  said 
squire  delivered  to  me.  '  Which  book  is  not  requisite 
to  every  common  man  to  have ;  but  to  noble  gentle* 
men,  that  by  their  virtue  intend  to  come  and  entet 
into  the  noble  order  of  chivalry,  the  which^  in  these 
late  days,  hath  been  used  according  to  this  book 
hereto/ore  written,  but  forgotten  ;  and  by  the  exer- 
cises ef  chivalry,  not  used,  honouret},  nt  exercised, 
as  it  hath  been  in  ancient  time,  at  which  time,  the 
noble  acts  of  the  knights  of  England,  that  used 
chivalry,  were  renowned  thro'  the .  universal  werld. 
As  for  to  speak  tofore  the  incarnation  of  Jesus 
Christ,,  where  weie  there  ever  any  like  to  Brennius 
and  Belinus,  that  from  the  Great  Britain,  now  called 
England,  unto  Rome,  and  far  beyond,  conquered 
many  royammei^  and  lands,  whose  noble  acts  remain 
in  the  old  histories  of  the  Romans.  And  syth  the 
incarnation  of  our  Lord,  behold  that  noble  king  of 
Britain,  king  Arthur,  with  all  the  noble  kiughts  of 
the  Round  Table,  whose  noble  acts  and  noble  chi- 
valry of  his  knights  occupy  so  many  large  volumes> 
that  is  a  world,  or  as  thing  incredible  to  believe.  O 
ye  knights  of  England !  where  is  the  custom  and 
usage  of  noble  chivalry,  that  was  used  in  tho  days  ? 
What  do  you  now  but  go  to  the  baynes^  and  play  at 
dice  ?     And  some  not  well  advised,  use  not  honest 

*kiDsdomK  f  baths,  or  bsfnios^ 


ORDER  OF  CtilVALRY.  245 

mad  good  rule,  ageyn^  all  order  of  knighthood.  Leave 
this,  leave  it,  and  read  the  noble  volumes  of  St. 
Qrael^  of  Lancelot,  of  Galaad,  of  Tristram,  of  Perse- 
foresty  of  Percy val,  of  Gawain,  and  many  mo^. 
There  shall  ye  see  manhood,  courtesy,  and  gentleness. 
And  look  in  latter  days  of  the  noble  acts  syth  the 
conquest,  as  in  king  Richard's  days,  Coeur  de  Lion ; 
Edward  L  and  lU.  and  his  noble  sons;  sir  Robert 
Knolles,  sir  John  Hawkewoode,  sir  John  Chaundos, 
and  sir  Gaultier  Manny.  Read  Froissart.  And 
also  behold  that  victorious  and  noble  king  Harry  V. 
and  the  captains  under  him  ;  shis  noble  brethren ;  the 
earl  of  Salisbury,  Montague,  and  many  other,  whose 
names  shine  gloriously  by  their  virtuous  nobleness  and 
acts  that  they  did  in  honour  of  the  order  of  chi- 
valry. Alas  !  what  do  ye  but  sleep  and  take  ease,  and 
are  all  disordered  from  chivalry.  How  many  knights 
hen  there  now  in  England,  thai  have  the  use  and  the 
€lxercise  of  a  knight  ?  That  is  to  wit,  that  he  know- 
edi  his  horse,  "and  his  horse  him  ?  That  is  tp  say, 
he  being  ready  at  a  point,  to  have  all  thing  that 
longeth  to  a  knight ;  an  horse  that  is  according 
and  broken  aftfer  his  hand  ;  Jiis  armours  and  harness 
meet  and  fitting,  and  so  forth?  I  suppose,  an' a 
due  search  should  be  made,  the^e  should  be  many 
found  that  lack.  The  more  tl>e  pity  is/  I  would 
it  pleased  our  sovereign  lord,  that  twice,  or   thrice 

*  against.  •  more. 


S4d        THE  boos:  of  TH4B  ORDER^  S^C, 

in  a  year,  or  at  least  onoe,  he  would  do  cry  Jwies  cf 
feesy  to  the  end  that  every  knight  should  have  horse 
and  harness,  and  also  the  use  and  craft  of  a  l^ight, 
^d  also  to  tourney  on«. against  jonty  or  two  a||ain8t 
jdwOy  and  the  best  to  have  a  price,  a  diamond  or 
jewel,  such  as  should  please  the  prince.  This  should 
cause  gentlemen  to  resort  to  the  ancient  customs  of 
chivalry,  to  great  fame  and  renown ;  and  also  to  he 
^way  ready  to  serve  their  prince,  when  he  shall 
call  them  or  have  needb  Then  let  ev^ry  man  that  is 
come  of  noble  blood,  and  intendeth  to  come  to  the 
noble  order  of  chivalry,  read  this  littiie  book,  and  do 
thereafter,  in  keeping  the  lore  and  c<nnmandment8 
therein  comprised ;  and  then,  I  doubt  not;  he  shall 
attain  to  the  order  of  chivalry,  et  cetera. 


This  book  Caxton  presents  to  his  dread  sov 
vereign  lord  king  Richard^  king  of  England 
and  Fr^ace^  that  he  may  command  the  same 
to  be  read  to  the  lords^  kpights^  and  gentle-t 
men  within  this  realm^  that  (as  he  says)  the 
faid  noble  order  of  chivalry  may  be  hereafter 
better  practised  and  honoured  ths^n  it  \\^^ 
b<^Q  of  late  times, 


<    «47    ) 


MORTE  JRTHUR. 


The  title  of  this  book  at  full  length  is—"  Tlie 
Birth,  Life,  and  Acts  of  King  Arthur;  of  his 
noble  Knights  of  the  Round  Table ;  their  mar- 
vellous Enquests  and  Adventures;  the  achieving 
of  the  Sangreal ;  and  in  the  end.  La  Mart  d' Ar- 
thur ;viith  the  dolorous  death  and  departing 
out  of  this  world  of  them  all :  which  book  was 
reduced  to  the  English  by  sir  Thomas  Malory> 
knight ;  arid  by  me,  William  Caxton,  divided 
into  twenty-one  books ;  chaptered  and  em- 
printed  and  finished  in  the  abbey  of  Westmin- 
ster, the  last  d^y  of  July,  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1485,"  being  about  a  month  before  the  battle 
of  Bosworth,  in  which  Richard  IIL  was  slain. 
If  we  are  to  credit  Leland,  and  others  after 
him,  sir  Thomas  Malory  was  a  Welch  man ; 
and  from  the  legendary  cast  of  some  of  the 
stories,  he  was  probably  a  priest.  The  history 
f>f  king  Arthur,  who  died  in  542,  occupies  the 


248  MORTE  ARTHUR. 

seventh  book  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  ; 
which  undoubtedly  furnished  the  ground  work 
of  the  romance  in  question.  The  superstruc- 
ture was  completed  by  materials  derived  from 
MSS.  written  in  the  French  and  Welch,  con- 
cerning the  said  king  Arthur  and  his  knights  ; 
perhaps  with  some  additions  by  the  compiler. 


!  The  Prologue. 

After  that  I  had  accomplished  and  finished  divers 

histories,  as  well  of  contemplation,  as  of  other  his- 

torial    and  \irorldly  acts   of  great  conquerors    and 

princes,  and  also  certain  books   of  ensamples  and 

doctrine,  many  noble  and  divers  gentlemen  of  this 

realm  of  England,  came  and  demanded  me  many  ai)d 

oft  timps,  wherefore  that  I  have  not  do  made  and 

emprint  the  noble  history  of  Sangreal,  and  of  the 

most  renowned  Christian  king,  (first  and  chief  of  the 

three  best  Christian  and  worthy)  king  Arthur,  which 

ought  most  to  be  remembered  among  us  Englishmen, 

tofore  all  other  Christian  kings ;  for  it  is  notoirlif  * 

knpwen  through  the  universal  world,  that  there  been 

nine  worthy,  and  the  best  that  ever  were  ;  that  is  to 

7cyie,  three  Paynims,  three  Jews,  and  three  Christian 

men,     As  for  the  Paynims,  they  were  tofore  the  in- 

« 

»  notoriou^y. 


[■ ' 


MORTB  ARTHUR.  249 

carnation  of  Christ,  Dvhich  were  named,  the  first, 
Hector  of  Troy,  of  whom  the  history  is  comen,,both' 
in  ballad  and  in  prose;  the  second,  Alexander  *the 
Great ;  and  the  third,  Julius  Csesar,  emperor  of  Rome, 
of  whom  the  histories  been  well  knowen  and  had.  And 
as  for  the  three  Jews,  which  also  were  tofore  the  in* 
carnation  of  our  Lord,  of  whom  the  first  was  duke 
Joshua,  which  brought  the  children  of  Israel  into 
the  land  of  behest ;  the  second,  David,  king  of  Je-  - 
rusalem;  and  the  third,  Judas  Macabeus.  Of  these 
three  the  Bible'  rehearseth  all  their  noble  histories- 
and  acts.  And  syth  the  s^id  incarnation  have  been, 
three  noble  Christian  men  stalled  and  amyUed  through 
the  universal  world,  in  to  the  number  nine,  best  and 
worthy  of  whom  was  Tyra,  the  noble  Arthur,  whose 
noble  acts  I  purpose  to  write  in  this  present  book 
here  following ;  *  the  seconfd  was  Chai'lemagne,  T)r 
Charles  the  Great,  of  whom  the  history  is  had  in 
many  places,  both  in  French  and  ErigKsh ;  and  the  , 
third  and  last,  Godfrey  of  Bologne,  of  whose  acts  and 
life- 1  made  a  book  unto  the  excellent  prince  Edward 
the  Fourth.  The  said  noble  gentlemen  instantly  re- 
quired me  to  enprint  the  story  of  the  said  noble 
king  and  conqueror,  king  Arthur,  and  of  his  knights, 
with  the  history  of  the  Sangreal,  and  of  the  death 
and  ending  of  the  said  king  Arthur ;  affirming  that  I 
ought  rather  to  enprint  his  acts  and  noble  feats, 
than  of  Godfrey  of  Bologne,  or  any  of  the  other 


N 


^50  MORTE  ARTHUEV 

eight,  considering  that  he  was  a  man  born  within  thi# 
realm,  and  king  and  emperor  of  the  same,  and  that 
tbeVe  been  in  French  divers  and  many  noble  volumes 
€f  his  acts,  and^lso  of  his  knights ;  to  whom  I  have 
ansivered,  that  divers  men  hold  opinion  that  there 
yras  no  ^ch  Arthur,  and  that  all  such  books  as 
been  made  of  him,  be  but  feigned.and  fables,  by  cause 
that  some  Chronicles  make  of  him  no  mention,  ne 
remember  him  nothing,  ne  of  his  knights^  Whereto 
they  answered,  andone*in  special  said,  that  in  him 
•that  should  say  or  think  that  there  was  never  such  a 
king  called  Arthur,  might  be  aryttyd  great  folly  and 
]>lindness :  for  he  said,  that  there  w^re  many  evi« 
/dence  of  the  contrary.  First,  ye  may  see  his  sepul- 
ture in  the  monastery  of  Glastonbury.  And  also  in 
ftifycrwMCOf?,  in  the  fifth  book,  and  the  sixth  chap"- 
tcr;  and  in  the  seventh  book,  the  thirteenth 
^chapter,  where  his  body  was  buried,  and  after  found 
and  translated  into  the  said  monastery.  Ye  shall  see 
also  in  the  history  of  Bochas,  in  his  book  De  Casu 
Trwcipywy  part  of  his  noble  acts,  and  also  of  his 
fell.  Also  Gdlfridus,  in  his  British  book,  recQuntcth 
bis  life ;  and  in  divers  places  of  England,  many  re- 
membrances been  yet  of  him,  and  shall  remain  per^ 
petoally  of  him,  and  also  of  his  knights.  First  in 
the  abbey  of  NVestminster,  at  Saint  Edward's  shrine 
remaineth  the  print  of  his  seal  in  red  wax,  closed  in 
beryl,  in  yrhich  is  written  Patriciusp  Arthurus,  Britan^ 


MORTE  ARTHUR.  251 

tiie,  Galie,  Gertnanie,  Dade  imperator.  Also  in  tht 
castle  of  Dover,  ye  may  see  Gawain's  skull,  an4 
Cradoc's  mantle.  At  Winchester,  the  round  table. 
In  other  places,  Lancelot's  sword;  and  many  other 
tilings.  Then  all  these  things  consider,  there  can 
no  man  reasonably  gainsay  but  there  was  a  king  of 
this  land  named  Arthur :  for  in  all  places  Christiaii 
and  heathen,  he  is  reputed  and  taken  for  one  of  th« 
nine  worthy,  and  the  first  of  the  three  Christian 
men.  And  also  he  is  more  spoken  of  beyond  th« 
sea,  mo  books  made  of  his  noble  acts  than  there  been 
in  England,  as  well  in  Dutch,  Italian,  Spanish,  and 
Greekish,  as  in  French.  And  yet  of  record  remain 
in  witness  of  him  in'WaJes,  in  the  town  of  Camelot, 
the  great  stones  and  marvellous  works  of  iron  lying 
under  the  ground  and  royal  vaults,  whic4i  divers  now 
have  seen.  Wherefore  it  is  a  marvel  why  he  is  no 
more  renowned  in  his  own  country,  sauf^  only  that 
it  accordeth  to  the  word  of  God,  which  saith,  That 
no  Irian  is  accept  for  a  prophet  in  his  own  country. 
Then  all  these  things  foresaid  alledged,  I  could  not 
well  deny  but  that  there  was  such  a  noble  king  named 
Arthur,  and  reputed  one  of  the  nine  worthy,  and  first 
and  chief  of  the  Christian  men.  And  many  noble 
volumes  been  made  of  him  and  of  his  noble  knights 
in  French,  which  1  have  seen  and  read  beyond  the 
sea;  which  been  not  had  in  our  maternal  tongue, 


€52  ,     MORTE  ARTHUR.  , 

But  in  Welch  been  many,  and  also  in  French,  and 
some  in  English,  but  no  where  nigh  all.  Wherefore 
such  as  have  been  late  drawen  out  briefly  into  Eng- 
lish, I  have,  after  my  simple  cunning  that  God 
hath  sent  to  me^  under  the  favour  and  correction  of 

all  noble  lords  and  gentlemen,  enprised  to  enprint  a 

"1.1 
book  of  the  noble  histories  of  the  said  king  Arthur, 

and'  of  certain  of  his  knights,  after  a  copy  unto  me 
delivered,  which  copy  sir  Thomas  Malory  took  out 
of  certain  books  of  French,  and  reduced  it  into  Eng- 
lish. And  I,  according  to  my  copy*  have  done  set 
it  in  enprint,  to  the  entent  that  noble  men  may  see 
and  read  the  noble  acts  of  chivalry ;  the  gentle  and 
virtuous  deeds  that  some.kiyghts  used  in  those  days, 
by  which  they  came  to  honour  ;  and  how  they  that' 
were  vicious  were  punished,  and  oft  put-  to  shame 
and  rebuke  ;  humbly  beseeching  all  noble  lords  and 
ladies,  with  all  other  estates  or  commonklty,  of  what 
estate  or  degree  they  been  of,  that  shall  see  and  read  ^ 
this  same  book  and  work,  that  they  take  and  entend 
to  the  good  and  honest  acts  in  their  remembrance, 
and  to  follow  tbose  sam6  wherein  they  shall  well  find 
many  joyous .  and  pleatsant  histories,  and  the  noble 
and  renowned  acts  of  humanity  and  gentleness,  and 
chivalries;  for  herein  may  be  seen  noble  chivalry, 
courtesey,  humanity,  friendliness,  hardiness,  love, 
friendship,  cowards,  murder,  hate,  virtue,  and  sin ; 
do  after  tUt 'good,  and  Wve  the  evil,  and  it  shall 


MORTE  ARTHUR.  253 

♦ 

bring  you  to  good  fame  and  renown.  And  for  to 
pass  the  time  this  book  shall  be  pleasant  to  read  it ; 
but  for  to  give  fai^  and  belief,  that  all  is  true  that 
is  contained  therein,  ye  be  at  your  liberty.  But  all 
is  written  for  our  doctrine,  and  for  to  beware  that 
wc  fall  not  to  vice,  ne  sin,  but  to  exercise  and  follow 
virtue,  by  which  we  may  come  and  attain  to  good 
fame  and  renown  in  this  life,  and  after  this  ^ort  and 
transitory  life,  to  come  unto  everlasting  bliss  in 
heaven,  the  which  he  grant  us  that  reigneth  in  the 
heaven,  the  blessed  Trinity.     Amen.  ^ 

Then  to  proceed  forth  in  this  said  book,  which  I 
direct  unto  all  noble  princes,  lords  and  ladies,  gentler- 
men  or  gentlewomen,  that  desire  to  read,  or  hear 
read  of  the  noble  and  joyous  history  of  the  great 
conqueror  and  excellent  king  Arthur,  sometime  king 
of  this  noble  realm  then  called  Britain,  I  Williani 
Caxton,  simple  person,  present  this  book  following^ 
which  I  have  enprised  to  enprint ;  and  treateth  of  the 
noble  acts,  feats  of  arms,  of  chivalry,  prowess,  har- 
diness, humanity,  love,  courtesy,  and  very  gentle- 
ness; witbumany  wonderful  histories  and  adventures. 
And  for  to  understand  briefly  the  content  of  this 
volume,  I  l^ave  divided  it  into  21  books,  and  every 
book  chaptered,  as  hereafter  shall,  by  God's  grace, 
follow. 


254  KIOHTE  AETHUtf. 

The  blowing  of  the  horn,  in  the  beginning 
of  the  following  passage^  furnishes  a  fine  in-* 
stance  of  the  sublime>  founded  on  particulaj^ 
costume. 

Ckap.22, 

So  he  rode  forth,  and  within  three  days  he  camef 
by  a  cross,  and  thereon  was  letters  of  gold  written^ 
that  said.  It  is  not  for  a  knight  alone  to  ridtf 
toward  this  castle.  Then  saw  he  an  old  hoar  gen- 
tleman coming  toward  him,  that  said,  Balin  le  Sa- 
vage, thoti  passcst  thy  bounds  this  way,  therefore 
turn  again  and  it  will  avail  thee.  And  he  vanished 
away  anon ;  and  so  he  heard  an  horn  blow  as  it  had 
been  the  death  of  a  beast.  That  blast,  said  Balitay 
is  blown  for  me  ;  for  I  am  the  prize,  and  yet  am  I 
not  dead.  And  therewith  he  saw  an  huhdred  ladies^ 
and  many  knights  that  welcomed  him  with  fair  seni- 
blant,  and  made  bim  passing  good  cheer  unto  his 
sights  and  led  him  into  the  castle,  and  there  was 
dancing  and  minstrelsy,  and  all  manner  of  joy,* 
Then  the  chief  lady  of  the  castle  said,  Knight  with 
the  two  swords,  he  must  have  ado  and  just  with  a 
knight  hereby,  that  keepeth  an  island :  for  there 
may  no  man  pass  this  way,  but  he  must  just  or^  he 
pass.      That  is   an  unhappy   custom,    said    Balin, 

»  ere,  before. 


MORTE  AjlTHtJR.  25S 

that  a  knight  may  not  pass  this  way,  btitifhe  just. 
"Ye  shall  have  ado  but  with  one  knight,*  said  the  lady. 
Well,  said  Balin,  «M  I  shall,  thereto  am  I  ready ;  but 
travelling  men  are  often  weary,  and  their  horse* 
also.;  but  tho'  my  horse  be  weary,  my  heart  is  not 
-weary.  I  would  be  fain  there  my  death  should  bcr 
Sir,  (said  a  knight  to  Balin,)  me  thinketh  your  shield 
is  not  good,  I  will  lend  you  a  bigger.  Thereof  I  pray 
you  ;  and  so  took  the  shield  that  was  unknown^  and 
left  his  own,  and  so  rode  unto  the  island,  and  put  him 
and  his  horse  in  a  great  boat;  aVid  when  he  came  on 
the  other  side,  he  met  with  a  damsel,  and  she  said, 
O  knight  Balin,  why  have  you  left  your  owo 
shield  ?  Alas !  ye  have  put  yourself  in  great  dan-, 
ger !  for  by  your  shield  you  should  have  been 
known ;  it  is  great  pity  of  you  as  ever  was  of  knight : 
*  for  of  prowess  and  hardiness  thou  hast  no  fellow 
living, 
,  Me  repenteth,  said  Balin,  that  ever  I  came  within 
this  country  ;  but  I  may  not  turn  again  for  shame; 
and  what  adventure  shall  fall  to  me,  be  it  life  or 
death,  I  will  take  ihe  adventure  that  shall  come  to 
me.  And  then  he  looked  on  his  armour,  and  under- 
stood he  was  well  armed,  and  therewith  blessed  him, 
and  mounted  upon  his  horse. 

■nil       a 


^56  MORtB  ARtHUR. 

Chap,  43. 

Hxxw  Balm  met  with  his  brother  Balan  ;  and  how  each 
of  tliem  slew  other  wiknown  till  they  were  wounded  to 
deaths 

Then  afore  him  he  saw  come  riding  out  of  a  cas- 
tle, a  knight  and  his  horse,  trapped  all  in  red,  and 
himself  in  the  same  colour.  And  when  this  knight 
in  the  red  beheld  Baliri,  him  thought  it  should  be 
his  brother  Balin,  because  of  his  two  swords ;  but  be- 
cause he  knew  not  his  shield,  he  deemed  that  it 
should  not  be  he.  And  so  they  aventured  their 
spears,  and  came  marN^ellously  fast  together,  and 
smote  either  other  in  the  shields ;  but  their  spears'" 
and  their  course  was  so  big,  that  it  bare  down  horse 
and  man,  so  that  they  lay  both  in  a  swoon ;  but 
Balin  was  sore  bruised  with  the  fall  of  his  horse': 
for  he  was  weary  of  travail.  And  Balan  was  the  first 
that  rose  on  foot,  and  drew  his  sword,  and  went 
toward  Balin,  and  he  arose  and  went  against  him ; 
but  Balan  smote  Balin  first,  and  he  put  up  his 
shield,  and  smote  him  thro'  the  shield,  and  brake  his 
helm.  Then  Balin  smote  him  again  with  that  un- 
happy sword,  and  well  iiigh  had  felled  his  brother 
Balan ;  and  so  they  fought  there  together  till  their 
breaths  failed.  Then  Balin  looked  up  to  the  caitle, 
and  saw  the  towers  stand  full  of  ladies.    So  they 


W^t  tb  battle  again,  and  wounded  each  other  griev- 
ously, and  then  they  breathed  oftentime,  and  so 
went  to  battle^  that  all  the  place  there  as  they 
fought  was  red  of  their  blood.  And  at  that  time^ 
there  was  none  of  them  both  but  they  had  smitten 
either  other  seven  gred,t  wouudS)  so  that  the  least  of 
them  might  have  "been  the  death  of  the  mightiest 
giant  in  the  world.  Then  they  went  to  battle  again 
so  marvellously,  that  doubt  it  was  to  hear  of  that 
battle  for  the  great  blood^shedding  ;  and  their  hau- 
berks unnailed,  that  naked  they  were  on  every  side* 
At  the  last  Balan,  the  younger  brother,  withdrew 
him  a  little  and  laid  him  down*  Then  said  le  Sa-^ 
tage,  What  knight  art  thou :  for  or  now,  I  found 
never  no  knight  that  matched  me  ?  My  name  is, 
said  he,  Balan,  brother  to  the  good  knight  Bsdin. 
Alas!  said  Balin,  that  ever  I  should  see  this  day; 
and  therewith  he  fell  backward  in*  a  swoon.  Then 
Balan  went  on  all  four  feet  and  hands>  and  put  ofP 
^e  helm  of  his  brother,  and  might  not  know  him  by 
the  visage,  it  was  so  full  hewn  and  bebled  ;  but  when 
he  awoke,  he  said,  O  Balan,  my  brother!  thou  hast  ^ 
slain  me,  and  I  thee.  Wherefore  all  the  wide  world 
shall  speak  of  us  both^ 

Alas!  said  Balan,  that  ever  I  saw  this  day, 
that  thro'  mishap,  I  might  not  know  you  :  for  I  es- 
pied well  your  two  swords ;  but  because  ye  had  ano- 
ther  shield^  I  deemed  you  had  been  another  ki^ighr. 

VOL.1,  S 


,C50  MOUTE  ARTHUlt* 

Alas!  said  Balia,  all  [that  made  an  naHaip^jr 
knight  in  the  castle :  for  he  caused  me  to  leave  mine 
ewn  shield,  to  the  destruction  of  us  both ;  and  if  I 
flight  live,  I  would  destroy  that  castle  for  the  ill 
customs*  That  we^'e  well  done,  said  Balan,  for 
I  had  never  grace  to  depart  from  them  sith  that  I 
came  hither:  for  here  it  happened  me  to  slaj  a 
knight  that  kept  this  island,  and  sith  might  I  never 
depart ;  and  no  more  should  ye,  brother ;  and  ye 
might  have  slain  me  as  ye  have^  and  escaped  your* 
self  with  your  life.  Right  so  came  the  lady  of  the 
tower,  with  four  knighta  and  six.  ladles,  and  six 
yeomen  unto  them;  and  there  she  heai'd  how  they 
piade  their  moan  either  to  other,  and  said.  We 
came  both  out  of  one  womb»  that  is  to  say,  mother^s^ 
belly ;  and  so  shall  we  lie  both  in  one  pit.  So  Ba- 
lan prayed  the  lady  of  her  gentienesa  for  kis  true  ser« 
vice,  that  she  woidd  bury  them  both  io:  that  place 
wiiere  the  battle  was  done.  And  she  granted  them 
with  weeping  cheer,  and  said  it  should  be  done 
*  tichly,^  and  in  the  best  manner^  Now  will  ye  send 
for  a  priest,  that  we  may  receive  the  sacrament  and 
blessed  body  of  our  Lord  Jesus.  Christ?  Yea^  said 
the  lady,  it  shall  be  done.^  And  so  she  sent  for  a 
priest  and  gave  them  their  rights.  Now,^  said  Ba- 
lin,  when  we  are  buried  in  one  tomb,  and  the  men- 
tion made  over  us  how  two  brethren  slew  each  other, 
there  will  never  good  knight,  nor  good  man  ^e  oar 


ionib,  but  they  will  praty  for  our  souls;  And  so  all 
the  ladies  and  gentlewomen  wept  for  pity.  And 
anon,  Balan  died ;  but  Balih  di^d  i\6t  till  the  mid-' 
night  after^  and  so  were  buried  both ;  and  the  lady 
let  make  a  mention  of  Balan^  how  he  was  there 
slain  by  the  hands  of  hid  own  brother;  and  she 
knew  not  Balin's  name. 


The  speeck  of  sir  Bohort,  towards  the  end^ 
over  the  dead  body  of  air  Lancelot^  has  been 
often  cjuoted  as  the  perfect  character  of  a 
knight  errant : 

And  now  I  dare  say,  tliat  sir  Landelot^  thdre  thou 
lyest,  thou  were  never  matched  of  inone  earthly 
knighf  8  hands  j  And  thou  were  the  curteist  knight  that 
tv&[  bare  $hieldi  And  thou  w^re  the  truest  friend  to 
thy  lover  that  ever  bestrode  hbrse ;  aAd  thou  were 
the  truest  lover  of  a  sinful  man,  that  ever  loved  wo-^ 
man.  And  thou  werei  the  kindest  man  that  ever 
stroke  with  sword.  And  thou  Were  the  goodliest 
person  that  ever  came  among  j^rece^  of  knights.  And 
thou  were  the  meekest  man,  and  the*  gentlest  thaf 
ever  ate  in  hall  among  ladies.  And  thou  were  the 
sternest  knight  to  thy  mortal  foe  that  ever  put  "spear 
in  rest* 

I  prest, 

S  2 


y 


?&enrp  vir. 


I- 


<    263    ) 


THE  BOOK  OF 

THE  FEA  TS  OF  ARMS, 

AND  OF 

CHIFALRY. 


This  book  was  written  by  Christina,  who 
was  born  at  Pisa,  in  Italy;  hence  she  is  com- 
monly called  Christina  of  Pisa ;  font  removing 
with  her  father  to  Bologne,  in  France,  she 
wrote  in  the  language  of  thtlt  country.  She 
^orisfaed  about  the  year  1400. 

Her  book  was  translated  into  English,  ,and 
.  printed  by  Caxton^  fol.  in  1489.  It  was  col- 
lected from  Frontinus,  Vegetius,  and  the  -rfr- 
.  bre  of  Battles ;  to  which  she  added  "  many 
other  things  requisite  to  war,"  8u:. 

At  the  end,  Caxton  says  that  this  book  "  was 
delivered  to  him  by  that  prince  (Henry  VII.) 
in  bis  palace  of  Wes|minster,  the  23dof  Ja^ 


/  < 


£60  THE  BOOK  OF  THE 

first  coming,  iastrtutest  and  gavest  maimer  and  or* 
der  to  arraage  battles,  and  to  assail  and  fight  in  man<* 
ner — adored  lady  and  high  goddess !  be  not  displeas* 
'  ed,  that  I,  simple  and  little  wpmaa,  like  as  nothing 
unto  the  greatness  of  thy  renown  in  cunning  \  dare 
presently  compise*  to  speak  oC  so  magnific  an  of- 
fice, as  is  the  office  of  arms ;  of  which  first  in  the 
said  renowned  country  of  Greece,  thou  gavest  the 
usage*  And  in  so  much  it  may  please  thee  to  be  to 
me  favourable,  that  I  may  be  somewhat  consonant 
in  the  nation  where  thou  was  born,  which  as  thea 
was  named  the  Great  Greece,  the  country  beyond 
the  Alpes,  or  mountains'  Puytte^  and  CaiMre^  in 
Italy,  where  you  were  bom.  And  Tarn,  as  you 
yere,  a  woman  Italian. 


The  ch^ters  towards  the  end,  which  treat 
of  the  trial  of  right  by  single  c6mbat  within  the 
fists,  as  allowed  and  ordained  by  th6  Imperial, 
and  Lombard  laws,  are  justly  considered  as  the 
most  curious  part  of  the  book. 


|itdli|aice.  .  *andertakt.  ^ApcHtJ 

«  Calabria. 


4      • 
\ 

I^JBATS  OF  AEMS,  SfC  5)97 

Book  ^.-^Ckap.  B. 

T^or  what  pauses  the  laa»  Imperial  4ii  <n'^am  the  Cian^^ 

^Battle. 

But  becausie  that  the  diffetues^  abovfsaid,  of  the 
right  written,  haye  not  be  always  observed,  nor  kept, 
nor  y^t  be  pot-  obeyed  in  all  royalmes,  ^  tQucbing  for 
to  fig}it  in  cliamp  of  battle,  as  it  is  said ;  I  sh^l  tell 
the  cai)ses  for  the  which  they  that  did  set  it  up 
have  judged  it  to  be  doOy  that  is  to  wit,  the  emperor 
Frederic,  th^t  so  much  contraried  holy  church,  that 
he  chased  the  pope  out  of  his  place,  that  time  when 
he  came  to  his  refuj^e  and  succour  toward  the  king 
pi  Fr^ce.  And  also  another  scripture  that  mep 
call  the  Lombardish  law,  deviseth  thereof  in  divers 
pases;  the  which  hereafter  shall  be  declared  by 
sne  unto  thee,  ' 

First,  The  said  emperor^s  law  saith,  If  a  man 
lie  accused  of  treason,  that  he  have  machined,  purr 
chased,  procured^  or  conspired  against  his  prince, 
or  against  bis  city,  ox;  else  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
(Common  weal,  whatsoever  the  case  be,  of  which  the 
truth  cannot  be  by  no  proofs  known ;  ai^d  that  this 
man  so  accused  offereth  to  defend  and  purge  himself 
by  champ  of  battle,  against  all  men  that  wol  say  against 

I  |tro1i)bitio|is.      ^    ^ 


263^  THE  HOOK  OP  THE 

him;  shall   be   received   to   do   the  said  champ  of 
battle.  '  . 

Jifewr.— ^That  if  a  prisoner  of  war  be  kept  in  prisoi^ 
by  the  party  adverse,  and'that  it  happeth  during  the' 
said  prisonment  that  peace  be  made  betwixt  the  two 
parties,  under  condition  that  all  ir^anner  of  prison- 
ers shall  be  ^cjivered  safe  again,  without  paying  of 
any  ransom ;  wherefore  it  may  haply  fall,  that  the 
master  ^kcih  his  prisoner:  for  which  misdeed,  by 
right  he  may  lese '  his  head,  and  he  be  reproved  and 
attainted  thereof;  whereupon  he  saith  that  he  slew 
him  in  his  defence,  and  that  first  of  all  the  prisoner 
had  other*  traitously^,  or  by  some  otherwise  assailed, 
when  they  were  but  them  two^together ;  and  this  he 
'wol  make  good  by  good  proof  of  his  own  body,  in  a 
champ  of  battle ;  if  any  man  were  that  would  say 
contrary  against  hinn,  he  ought  to  be  received.         ^ 

Ifein. — ^Also  it  saith,  as  by  such  ay'fl/Z'',  we  put 
case  that  the  king  of  France  an4  the  king  of  Eng- 
land had  truce  together,  and  that  it  should  hap  a 
Frenchman  during  this  time,  to  wound  and  hurt  full 
sore  an  Englishman,  or  an  Englishnmn  a  French- 
man ;  of  the  which  thing  tliat  law  saith,  that  in 
such  a  case  behoveth  of  right  and  justice  a  greater 
punition^  to  him  that  hath  hurted  that  other,  than  if 
he  haS  done  the  same  to  one  of  his  own  country :   Jf 

}  lose.  •  cither.  *  traitorously.  4  eveat,  accident. 

5  pvnishmenu 


IPS  ATS  OF  ARM^^^T*  £6^ 

he  that  this  wrong  hath  done,  would  bear  it  out  by 
the  proof  of  his  own  body,  that  this  was  done  of  him 
in  his  defence  against  th^at  other  that  first  had  as* 
jailed  him-^his  words  by  the  said  law  Imperial^ 
ought  to  be  heard. 

J^em.— If  a  man  accuseth  another  that  he  would 
^ave  had  slain  the  king  or  the  prince,  by  poisons  or 
otherwise ;  and  that  other  saith  that  he  lyeth  falsely, 
and  for  the  same  called  him  to  champ  of  battle,  he  ist 
holden  by  the  same  law  Imperial,  to  answer  him  and 
keepjiim,  the  day  that  he  shall  set  for  to  fight  with 
him. 


Chap,  d- 


For  what  causes  did  ordain  the  Lmbardish  law  Chantp 

of  Battle, 

So  is  there  another  law  that  is  called  the  Law  of 
Lombardy ;  wherein  be  comprised  many  divers 
things;  and  in  the  same  by  especial,  the  mas- 
ters that  stablished  it  have  thereupon  written 
many  causes  to  which  men  may  give  gage  fbr  to 
fight  in  champ  of  battle.  And  out  of  the  same  laws 
are  come  almost  all  the  judgments  of  giving  oi  gage  ; 
that  is  to  say,  a  token  of  defiance  for  to  befight  his 
enemy  w>thin  a  clos^  fiejd,  which  men  call  champ  of 


^70  tHR  BooM  6f  tn^ 

'  battle.  So  sbaQ  I  fell  ihee  sonie  o{fh69i  eanses,  fhili 
is  to  wke;  If  a  man  accusetli  his  wife,  that  ^M, 
bath  treated  or  bespoken'  fat  to  make  him  die,  <^h^ 
by  poison,  or  by  some  other  secret  death  whereof  bf 
some  coloor,  he  hath  her  in  suspicion  ;  bat  she  eaiK 
sot  be  to  the  truth  truly  attaint^ :  or  else  when  the 
husband  is  dead^  and  his  kinsmen  putteth  upon .  h§» 
wife,  that  she  hath  made  him  to  be  brought  to^ 
death-^f  this  ^i^man  can  find  a  kinsman  of  her's,  of' 
some  other  fiiend  that  will  fight  for  her,  bearing  ouf 
Aiat  that  ^hich  is^  laid  upon  her,  is  falsely  said,  (k^ 
Lombardi«h  law  will  that  he  shall  be  received  foi*  to' 
fight  for  her,  against  whomsoever  will  blame  her. 

Item.^^lf  a  man  were  accused  that  he  had  slain 
another,  and  that  this  could  not  be  proved  against 
him ;  if  he  casteth  his  gage  agdnst  him  that  accuseth 
him,  the  law  will  that  he  be  received^ 

Itemi'^emblabli/^  if  he  had  beat  a  man  under  a^ 
surance. 

Item^'^K  e^maxi  have  slain  another  man,  both  all 
alone,  and  that  he  xvoll  make  a  proof  by  gage  of  his 
body,  that  it  was  in  his  defencing^  and  that  the  other 
assailed  him  first ;  the  said  law  will  that  he  shall  be 
heard. 

J^em.^-^If  a  man,  after  the  decease  of  some  kins-- 
man  of  his,  of  whom  he  ought  to  have  the  goods  by  • 
succession^  as  next  kin>  ^ere  accused  to  have  slain 

*  in' likif  mftftn«r« 


FEATS  OF  A-RMS,  8fC.  f71 

h^Dy  for  to  have  his  livelihood  and  his  godds,  he  mmf 

defend  himself  thereof  by  his  body,  after  the  form 

aforesaid. 

Item,-^lf  a  man  were  put  tipon,  and  accused  to 
have  lain  with  a  man's  wife,  the  which  case,  after 
this  law,  if  her  husband  or  kinsman  complain  to  the 

justice,  is  ci^)ital  death ;  that  is  to  say,  worthy  ta 
lose  his  head  for  the  *same ;  the  said  law  will  ttkst 
this  mail  shall  mtme*  [to]  defend  himself  by  gage  of 
battle.  * 

Itemj-^ln  likewise  it  is  of  a  man's  daughter,  being 
yet  under  the  rule  of  her  parents ;  if  they  do  com* 
plain  of  some  man  that  hath  had  fellowship  with 
her,,  tho'  it  was  with  her  good  will ;  this  law  wiU 
that  he  die,  but  if  he  defend  himself  thereof  by  champ 
of  battle,  in  case  the  thing  were  so  secretly  kept  that 
it  might  not  be  proved  ag^nst  him:  for  if  manifest 
or  openly  known  it  were,  (if  the  hinsmea  will,)  there 
were  no  remedy.  And  therefore  this  law  should 
seem  well  strange  in  France,  and  in  other  place,  that 
a  man  should  die  for  such  a  case,  seeing  that  it  was 
by  the  good  will  of  the  woman,  wedded  or  not 
wedded.  And  this  law  is  upon  such  a  reason  founds 
ed,  where  it  is  truth  that  a  man  taketh  death  by 
sentence  of  the  law  or  of  justice,  for  to  have  com- 

,  mitted  a  small  theft  of  gold  or  of  silver,  a  jewel   or 
other   thing :  of  which  case  whatsoever  necessity 

>  may  \  i. «.  sbatl  be  anpowcrc4; 


f7«  TiiE  pobk  or  titM 

/ 

bath  brought  |iim  t|iereto,  shall  not  nuywe  exciiSe  htm^ 
l»ut  that  justiee  shall  keep  upon  him  her  rigour,  if 
grace,  for  respect  of  some  piteous  case,  be  not  td 
kim  imparted  and  made.     Why  then  shall  be  spared 
he  that  hath  despoiled  and  taken  away  the  honour 
snd  worship  not  only  of  a  woman  alone^  but  of  her 
kusband>  and  of  both  their  lineages  I    And  because 
Uiat  where  this  folk  that  first  made  and  stablished 
these  4aws>  praise  and  set  much  more  by  worship^ 
than  they  did  of  gold  nor  of  silver ;  they  concluded 
that  yet  miich  more  ought  to  have  deserved  death, 
he  that  robbed  another  of  the  aforesaid  honour,  where^ 
by  all  a  whole  kindred  is  reproved,  than  if  he  had 
taken  from   them  whatsomever  other  thing  ^    and 
therefore   some  did  say  that  the  law  was  yet  well 
gracious  and  piteous  to  them^  when  such  folk  were 
not  more  cruelly  punished  than  other  that  were 
worthy  of  death ;  4:hat  is  to  wit,  that  it  made  them 
not  to  die  of  a  more  cruel  death,  than  for  another  case» 
.  Another  case  putteth   the  said  law,  that  should 
seem  all  enough  against  reason.     That  is  to  wit, 
that  if  a  man  had  stolen  certain  lifctode^,  house  or 
land,  or  namely,  moveable  goods,  the  space  of  thirty 
year,  «r  more ;  and  that  another  should  accuse  him 
that  through  evil  and  deceivable  means  he  had  it^ 
and  falsely  had  possessed  it.;  that  if  this  accuser  of* 
fered  to  prove  the  same  only  by  his  body  in  chum]^ 

1  Uyelihood>  lifehold. 


l^EAtS  OF  ARMS,  !(€.  £73 

bit  battle,  he  shall  be  received  thertunto*  But  with* 
out  fail,  notwithstanding  this  law,  1  teU  thee  wdl^ 
'  that  foolish  is  he  that  such  law  accepteth,  or  such 
gage.  And  he  that  is  thereunto  called,  ahd  that  al- 
ready hath  the  possession  in  hand,  might  answer 
thus  to  that  other:  Fair  friend)  I  have  nought  to  do 
.  with  thy  gage.  Fight  thyself  all  alone>  if  you  seewi 
it  good  :  for  I  shall  never  fight  for  thi*^  cause.  So 
is  there  no  law  that  may  gainsay  hiih  ih  this  case  i 
for  prescription  is  approved  of  all  right. 

J^«w.— Saith  the  same  law,  that  if  it  happed 
two  men  tp  fall  a-debate  together,  and  that  their 
.  question  were  brought  to  judgment,  where  both  of 
them  should  produce  or  bring  forth  their  proofs,  to 
this  intention,  that  if  the  one  party  would  gainsay 
the  other,  and  that  they  could  not  accord;  if  he 
Will  make  it  good  by  proof  of  his  bddy>  he  shall  bt 
received. 

Jife»t.'«-If  a  man  taketh  an  action  upon  toother  for 
certain  sum  of  silver  or  some  Jewel,  or  of  som^ 
other  moveable  good,  which  as  he  said  he  lent  to  his 
father  or  mother,  and  that  other  denieth  him  the 
same ;  he  shall  also  be  received  against  the  other  to 
do  champ  of  battle ;  if  he  profiereth  to  make  it  go6d 
'by  the  same  mean. 

Item. — If  a  man  hath  he^  brought^X)  loss  and  da- 
mage by  fortune  of  fire  in  his  house,  or  in  his  grange, 

■been. 
VOL,  1.  T 


274  THE  BOOK  OF  tKE 

or.  other  thing ;  if  he  will  prove  against  another  iti 
^nann^r  aforesaid,  that  he  hath  put  the  fire  therein^ 
lie  shall  be  heard. 

Itetn. — ^If  a  man  complaineth  over  his  wife,  that 
she  is  no  good  woman ;  tho'  he  do  this  for  a  will 
for  to  close  her  within  a  wall,  or  for  to  be  quit  of 
htXf  or  that  she  should  be  banished  from  her  dowry ; 
she  may  defend  hereof  herself,  if  she  can  find  a 
champion  that  will  fight  against  her  husband  lor 
her;  and  if  the  husband  refuseth  him,  he  shall  not 
be  bdievedl 

Item,f^li  a  man  hannteth  in  the  house  of  a  weddeit 
man,  if  the  husband  will  say  that  this  man  hath 
haunted,  and  haunteth  for  to  have  ardo  with  his  wife^ 
for  to  shame  her  and  him ;  this  other  man  that  S9 
haunteth  there  may  defend  him  against  the  husband 
by  gage  of  battle-  Whereof  I  dp  laqgh,  considering 
such  a  folly ;  that  if  the  fellow  that  is  so  aceu8e4 
were  great  and  strong,  it  were  well  bestowed,  if  he 
£eel  himself  innocent,  that  he  should  beat  well  and 
thrifly  in  the  ^kampf  that  jealous  and  foolish  hus- 
band. 

Item.r^U  a  noan  accuseth  another,  that  he  hath 
perjured  himself  in  judgment ;  he  that  is  so  aceused 
may  gainsay  it,  as  it  is  said. 

Many  other  ^things  containeth  tfie  said  law  that 
concernen  chanip  of  battle,  which  I  l^ve  for  shorter 
n^ss  of  the  matter,  as  a  thing  not  needful  more  for  to 


F£ATS  OF  ABMS^  4^*  9li$ 

s^y.  But  so  much  is  to  be  understand,  that  these  battle^ 
are  sometime  done  by  the  principal  persons^  when  a  rea^ 
sonable  case  of  some  letting  falleth  there.  As  it  were* 
If  a  man  too  young  were  accused,  or  a  man  that  wer^ 
too  old)  or  a  man  that  had  some  sickness,  or  that  were 
impotent,  and  could  not  help  him$elf,  and  sometime 
a  woman,  and  all  such  other  persons;  the  which 
things  are  all  enough  estpressed  and  named  in  the 
said  laws ;  and  namely,  if  a  bondman  said  that  his 
lord  had  made  him  free  of  his  bond  and  servitude, 
and  this  he  will  make  good  by  his  body,  the  lord  is 
not  holden  to  receive  battle  therefore  ;  but  ought  to 
deliver  him  a  champion.  And  more  it  saith,  that 
two  clerks  of  like  degree,  may  have  leave  to  fight 
each  other  in  champ  of  battle.  Of  the  which  thing 
smiffe  ^  her  grace,  I  say  that  she  hath  wrong  to  in- 
termit herseir  in  such  a  case  of  any  mah  of  the 
church:  for  the  canon  that  ought  more  to  be 
obeyed^  drfendeth  them  expressly  all  manner  of  battle 
and  violent  hurt.  And  1  ask  thee,  if  a  man  im« 
potent  as  it  is  said,  may  set  for  himself  such 
a  champion  as  shall  please  him.  I  answer  thee, 
that  the  champions  that  be  committed  for  ano- 
ther are,  in  this  deed  of  battle,  figured,  or  in 
figure  of  procurors  and  advocates  of  plea;  which 
office  every  man  may  do  for  another  if  he  will, 
if  right  expressly   gainsayeth  it  not.     Right 'even 

^save* 

t2 


276   THE  B06K  of  TJttE  FEATS  OF  AtUS,  S^d 

SO  it  is  of  the  champions :  for  whatsoever  wilf, 
he  may  be  one,  so  that  right  gainsay  him  not  fof 
come  cause :  for  a  thief,  or  sdme  oth^r,  that  tofore 
had  committed  some  gre^t  evil  or  crime,  should  not 
be  received  thereto,  nor  no  man  that  is  known  of  evil 
fame.  And  the  reason  is  good ;  that  is  to  wit,  that 
if  such  a  man  entered  a  champ  of  battle  for  another, 
and  were  vanquished  there,  men  should  went  that  it 
had  been  for  his  own  sins ;  and  that  therefore  he 
had  lost  the  battle. 


This  book^  together  with  the  "  Ordler  of 
ChiYalry/*  above  treated  of^  and  another  en- 
titled^ the  ^'  Knight  of  the  Tow  er/'  contain,  I 
apprehend,  the  greater  part  of  the  doctrines  of 
Chivalry.  The  *"  Knight  of  the  Tower/'  re- 
lates  chiefly  to  the  education  and  conduct  of 
women.  The  books  are  all  very  curious,  and 
obviously  require  republication. 


<    «77    > 


ROMJNCE. 


4 

On  account  of  the  supposed  immoral  ten- 
dency of  Romances^  a  very  severe  censure  has 
beep  passed  upon  them  by  the  famous  Roger 
Ascham.  He  says  that  '*  In  our  forefathers* 
time,  when  papistry^  as  a  standing  pool,  cover* 
ed  and  overflowed  all  England,  few  books 
were  read  int  our  tongue,,  saving  certain  books 
of  chivalry,  as  they  said,  for  pastime  and  plea** 
sure ;  which,  as  some  say,  were  made  in  mo* 
nasteries,  by  idle  monks,  or  wanton  canons :  for 
example,  Movie  Arthur ^  the  whole  pleasure  of 
which  book  standeth  in  two  special  points-— in 
open  man-slaughter  and  bold  bawdry.  In  which 
book,  those  be  counted  the  noblest  knights 
that  kiU  most  men  without  any  quarrel,  and 
conmiit  foulest  adulteries  by  subtlest  shifts:  as 
sir  Lancelot,  with  the  wife  of  king  Arthur,  his 
master ;  sir  Tristram,  with  the  wife  of  king^ 
Mack,  his  uncle ;  sir  Lamerock,  with  the  wife 


\ 


27S  BOMANCS. 

of  king  Lote,  that  was  his  own  aunt.  This  is 
good  stuff  for  wise  men  to  laugh  at,  or  honest 
men  to  take  pleasure  in.  Yet  (says  he)  I 
J^now  when  God's  Bible  was  banished  the 
court,  and  Morte  Arthur  received  into  the 
prince's  chamber." 

Though  we  should  refuse  to  subscribe  to 
this  illiberal  and  puritanical  manner  of  view- 
ing the  productions  of  chivalry ;  yet  the  pas- 
sage furnishes  a  proof  of  their  prevalence,  and 
of  the  predominant  taste  of  the  age,  (at  least 
toiong  th6  higher  tanks,)  even  in  Ascham's 
time.  After  briefly  noticing  their  origin,  it 
may  not  be  improper  in  this  place,  to  state  the 
effects  which  these  conipositions,  in  tiie  opi** 
nions  of  men  of  a  more  enUghtened  and  liberal 
cast  of  sentiment,,  have  produced  relatively  to 
social  improvement. 

Romance  wais  the  offspring  Of  chivalry ;  as 
chivalry  again  was  th^  result  of  the  feudal  sys* 
tern.  Agreeably  to  the  institutions  of  that 
system,  each  landed  proprietor  was  a  soldier  f 
and  was  obliged,  bythe  conditiona  of  his  te- 
niire>  to  follow  his  lord  on  hor^back  when  he 
went  to  war.  Hence  a  soldier  vras,  in  those 
times,  a  man  ^f  the  first  importance  and  con** 
sideration.     The  youths  from  their  learliest 


childhood^  were  initiated  in  the  use  of  arms; 
4Uid  were  taught  to  look  forward  for  their  fame 
and  consideration  in  society,  and  for  the  stiH 
more  inspiring  remuneration  of  the  smiles  of 
the  fair,  to  military  achievement  and  heroic 
adventure.  War,  therefore,  became  the  ob- 
ject of  their  most  eagel:  and  enthusiastic  aspira*- 
dons ;  and  though  they  seldopi  wanted  oppor- 
tunities for  the  display  of  their  courage,  the 
occasional  intervals  of  peace  seem  to  haVe 
given  birth  to  tilts  and  tournaments,  justs  and 
defiances,  which  famished  at  once  the  schools 
of  chivalry,  and  a  vent  for  their  ever^-active 
heroism.  AU  differences  were  decided  by  aa 
appeal  to  the  sword,  whether  it  consisted  of 
treason,  or  rape,  or  murder.  The  restless  spi^ 
rit  of  this  system,  too,  stimulated  its  profes&> 
sors  to  go  inquest  of  adventures  for  the  mert 
pleasure  of  achieving  them;  and  diligently  to 
seek  for  acts  of  oppression  and  wrong,  not  so 
much  in  the  first  instance,  that  they  may  re<» 
lieve  the  oppressed,  and  redress  the  ivrong,  a% 
for  the  delight  they  felt  in  inartial  activity.  ' 
The  first  Romances  were  nierely  the  record 
of  the  adventures  and  achievements  of  the^^ 
military  heros  ;  and  consisted  simply  of  songs 
sung  by  the  minstrels  at  festivals  and  convivial 


j280  .SOMANOE. 

meetings^  accompanied  by  the. music  of  the 
harp.  The  particular  machinery  of  giants, 
fairies,  dragons,  and  enchantments  of  all  sorts, 
is  supposed  to  have  been  furnished  by. the 
Scalds,  or  Scandinavian  bards;  to  which 
were  added  the  other  wonderful  materials  m* 
vented  in  the  12th  and  ISth  centuries.  v 

The  first  symptom  of  the  existence  of  Ro- 
mantic stories,  occurs  at  the  battle  of  Hastingsi, 
A.  D.  1G66,    TaiUefcr,  a  soldier  in  the  army  of 
WilUam  the  Conqueror,  and  who  first  broke 
the  ranks  of  the  English,  is  recorded  to  have 
sung  on  that  occasion  the  song  of  Roland,  one 
rf  the  hefos  of  Charlemagne.    Tiom  the  cir- 
jcumstance   of  this  song  being  sung  with  a 
view  to  awaken  martial  enthusiasm,  it  is  na- 
tural to  infer,  that  not  only,  this,  but  others  of 
m  like  description  must  have  become  popular 
in  Normany  for  some  time  prior  to  the  Nor- 
man invasion.     From  the  various  songs  exist- 
ing on  the  subject  of  Roland,  Oliver,  and  the 
6ther  beros  of  the  imagipary  war  of  Charle- 
majgne,  against  the  Saracens  in  Spain,  was  com* 
piled,  about  the  year  1 100,  a  large  prose  narra* 
tive  in  Latin,  and  supposed  to  have  been  the 
production  of  Turpin,  archbishop  of  Rheims, 
It  was  givm  to  the  W9rld  as  a  real  history  of 


ROMANCE.  £81 

the  exploits  of  that  monarchy  and  of  the  twelve 
peers  of  France,  his  cotemporaries.  This 
work,  together  with  that  of  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth, before  mentioned,  are  considered  as 
the  main  sources  of  Romantic  fiction. 

Chivalry  originated  in  the  eleventh  century. 
The  first  regular  Romance  of  which  we  have 
any  account,  appeared  in  the  succeeding  one. 
It  was  entitled  Le  Brut  d^ Angleterrey  and  was 
written  by  Robert  Wace,  a  native  of  Jersey, 
who  was  about  thirty  years  younger  than  Geof- 
frey of  Monmouth^  from  whose  fabulous  his- 
tory he  obviously  derived  his  materials. 

But  Arthur  and  Charlemagne  are  not  the 
only  themes  of  these  fictions  narratives.  The 
writers  of  Romance  in  the  twelfth  and  ,  thir- 
teenth centuries,  had  likewise  recourse  to  the 
Trojan  war ;  the  history  of  Alexander  the 
Great ;  and  the  Crusades ;  all  of  which  subjects 
were  treated  in  the  vulgar,  or  Romance 
tongue.  And  it  is  a  peculiar  feature  of  thei^e 
compositions,  that  whatsoever  the  subject,  or 
*»  the  period  whence  the  characters  are  drawn, 
they  are  uniformly  invested  with  the  costume 
pf  the  age  of  chivalry. 

The  first  Romances  were  all  written  in  verse ; 
(ind  like  the  separate  songs  from  which  they  were 


originally  compiled,  were  accustomed  to  be 
sang  by  the  minstrels,  and  subsequently  to  be 
also  recited  by  the  discurs,  at  public  enter- 
tainments. But  as  manners  and  customs  al- 
tered by  the  lapse  of  ages,  the  profession  of 
minstrelsy  decayed ;  the  metrical  Romances  be- 
came less  in  request  at  publib  festiyities^  and 
were  imperceptibly  superseded  by  Romances 
in  prose,  ^  There  are  consequently,  (as  Mr. 
Ellis  observes,)  two  different  aeras,  as  well  as 
characters,  to  be  distinguished  in  Romances  ; 
that  of  their  composition  in  verse^  during  the 
reigns  of  the  successors  of  WilU«to  the  Con- 
queror :  the  second,  the  time  when  these  Ro- 
mances were  reduced  to  prose,  and  accommo* 
dated  to  the  opinions  existing  at  the  time  of 
their  refiibrication.  The  first  prose  Romances 
in  our  language  were,  the  History  of  Troy; 
the  Life  of  Charlemagne ;  the  Histories  of  Ja- 
son, Paris,  and  Vyenne ;  the  Death  of  King 
Arthur ;  and  other  prose  compositions  of  Chi- 
valry. All  these  were  translated  and  printed 
by  Caxton,  from  the  French. 

In  considering  the  influence  of  Romance 
upon  the  progress  of  general  improvement,  it 
should  be  recollected,  that  prior  to  its  exist- 
ence, the  Latin  language  was  the  only  vehicle 


komance;.  £83 

o^  litetary  compositions  throughout  Europe. 
Romances  had  the  effect  of  establishing,  in 
Some  sort>  a  common  language ;  and  of  ex- 
citing other  nations  besides  the  French,  to  im- 
prove by  translation  their  native  tongues. 
But  their  most  important  effect  was>  that  the 
literary  compositions  of  the  day,  no  longet 
confined  to  the  few  who  were  professionally 
learned,  became  intelligible  to  the  ladies  and 
to  the  people ;  luld  a  love  of  reading,  and  a 
taste  for  poetry  in  particular,  was  generally 
diffused.  The  compositions  of  the  Romantic 
Versifiers  became  the  most  favourite  amuse- 
tnent  with  princes  and  feudal  lords,  whose 
courts,  by  degrees,  displayed  a  more  refined 
taste  in  pleasure  and  magnificence ;  and  these 
iirts  of  entertainment,  thus  rendered  universally 
fashionable,  gradually  laid  the  foundation  fot 
polite  literature* 

Again-^the  Romances  contain  various  pjeas- 
ing  images  of  ancient  customs,  manners,  and  in-^ 
stitutions,  often  delineated  in  a  very  striking  and 
peculiar  manner.  They  are,  besides,  the  genuine 
tepositaries  of  those  taks!"of  chivalry  which 
awakened  the  imagination,  and  formed  the 
taste  of  our  early  poetical  writers.  Considered 
in  these  points  of  vieW>  they  lose  their  frivo- 


284"  ROMANCE. 

lous  and  unimportant  character ;  and^must  be 
allowed  to  be  necessary  objects  of  research  to 
him  Avho  would  trace  the  history  of  man  in  the 
progress  of  human  society. 

It  must  be  admitted^  however^  that  the  most 
formidable  objection  against  these  composi- 
tions isy  the  frequent  examples  they  <;ontain 
of  indecorous  conduct.  Yet  these  improprije- 
ties  are  referable  not  to  the  principles  of  chi- 
valry, but  to  the  practice  of  the  knights.  We 
have  seen  from  a  preceding  article  "^^  and  learn 
from  other  sources,  that  some  of  those,  prin- 
ciples are  among  t|;ie  purest  and  most  exalted 
by  which  human  nature  can  be  guided.  The 
knight,  on  receiving  the  order  of  knighthood, 
takes  an  oath  to  devote  himself  to  the  defence 
of  religion,  of  his  prince,  and  of  his  country ; 
to  protect  the  feeble,  particularly  women,  wi- 
dows, and  orphans ;  to  go  in  queist  of  thieves, 
robbers,  and  other  miscreants,  tliat  tl^ey  may 
be  brought  to  condign  punishment ;  and  above 
all,  he  was  required  to  maintain  his  oath  invio- 
lable. The  true  knight  was  expected  to  possess 
strength,  swiftness,  with  the  other  accomplish- 
ments of  bodily  activity.  His  soul,  lofty  and 
enterprising,  was  adorned  with  aU  that  can  in« 

/  The  Order  of  Knighthood. 


^OMANCK.  285 

l^pire  admiration^  or  kindle  afTeciion.  His  va* 
lour  was  dauntless  in  the  fields  though  the  ge- 
nerosity of  his  courage  ever  forbad  him  to  e^- 
ult  over  his  vanquished  foe.  He  was  wise, 
just,  humane,  charitable,  beneficent.  As  a 
check  to  the  arrogance  and  pride  of  the  war- 
rior, his  principles  strictly  enjoined  him  mo- 
desty and  humility';  and  this  constellation  of 
noble  qualities^  received  additional  lustre' from 
manners  the  most  gentle  and  courteous,  digni- 
fied with  a  character  of  spotless  honour,  and 
unshaken  truth.  The  whole  was  crowned  with 
an  enthusiastic  devotion  to  the  fair,  whom  he 
was  not.  only  prompted  by  inclination,  but  re- 
quired by  the  roles  of  his  order,  to  love,  pro- 
tect, and  adore.  Among  these,  he  was  obliged 
to  select  one  to  whom  he  might  devote  him- 
self with  a  peculiar  constancy  of  s^tachment. 
Her  he  constituted  the  judge  of  his  actions, 
the  empress  of  his  soul ;  and  from  her  hands 
he  received  the  prize  in  tournaments — ^the  re- 
ward of  his  dexterity  and  valour. 

The  women,  on  the  other  hand,  adored  chi-^ 
valry,  and  were  ambitious  of  recommending 
themselves  to  the  knights,  by  all  the  graces  of 
virtue  and  feminine  accomplishments.  Their 
attentions  to  them  were  the  most  generous 


118(5  BOMAUfCfi. 

and  flattering.  It  was  their  office  to  uiiam! 
the  knights^  to  cure  their  wounds,  and  to  per- 
form for  them  all  the  offices  of  hospitality :  for 
the  liberal  spirit  of  chivalry  sanctified  even 
menial  services-deeming  no  actiondeg  rading 
which  was  performed  for  a  worthy  objects 
'  By  this  reciprocation  of  kind  offices— of  mutual 
respect  and  affection,  operating  pn  occasions 
of  interest  frequently  occurring,  the  heart  was 
touched  with  the  magic  of  feeling ;  and  ima-* 
gination,  the  purifier  of  the  affections,  the  re- 
finer of  the  soul,  at  length  awoke  from  the 
long  and  dreary  night  of  ignorance.  By  con- 
templating the  fancied  images  of  perfection 
in  the  characters  of  a  valorous  knight,  and  of 
an  all  accomplished  woman,  the  passions  were 
gradually  sublimed  from  the  grossness  of  mere 
sensual  appetite ;  and  though  they  were  still 
too  frequently  indulged  at  the  ^(pence  of  vir- 
tue, gratificati(»i  now  began  to  be  ennobled  by 
the  grace  of  sentiment.  The  objects  which 
men  delight  to  contemplate,  they  will  soon 
learn  to  paint  or  describe ;  and  this  admira- 
tion of  exceUence  first  called  forth  those  en- 
thusiastic and  heroic  songs,  which  distinguish- 
ed and  adorned  the  age  of  chivalry.  Inspired 
by  this  flattering  applause,  .the  hero  of  Ro- 


HOMANCE*  287 

mance  was  encouraged  to  still  higher  achieve- 
ments, to  more 'daring  enterprize;  and  his 
mistress  participating  m  his  wild  enthusiasm, 
was  more  and  more  intent  to  heighten  those 
personal  and  mental  charms^  which  she  con- 
ceived most  likely  to  gain  and  to  fix  his  love. 
The  state  of  manners  now  underwent  a  total 
change,  and  the  intercourse  between  the 
sexes  was  marked  by  a  degree  of  refinemeut 
and  delicacy  hitherto  unknown. 

Such  were  some  of  the  principal  effects  which 
chivalry  produced  upon  the  ages  in  which  it 
florished ;  and  regarded  simply  as  a  <:ause  ope- 
rating on  the  general  progress  of  society,  by 
first  rousing  the  nations  from  barbarism,  its  in^ 
fluence  was  undoubtedly  great.  But  this  in- 
fluence ceased  not  with  the  practice  of  chi- 
valry. It  is  still  discoverable  in  the  principle 
of  modern  honour,  and  in  other  peculisur  man^/ 
ners  and  prejudices,  which  distinguish  the  mo* 

dern  from  the  ancient  world. 

> 

There  is  yet  a  point  of  view  in  which  Ro* 
mance  may  be  regarded,  I  think,  to  advantage, 
even  in  the  present  age.  The  most  interesting 
qualities  in  a  chivalrous  knight^  are  his  high 
toned  enthusiasm  and  disinterested  spirit  of  ad« 
vent*ip^— ^qn^Utics  to  which,  when  properly  mo* 


S88  ROMAJicfi- 

I 

I 

dified  and  directed,  society  owes  its  highest  im-» 
provemcnts.  Such  are  the  feelings  of  benevolent 
genius  yearning  to  diffuse  love  and  peace  and 
happiness  among  the  human  race.  The  gorgeous 
visions  of  the  imagination,  familiar  to  the  en- 
»  thusiastic   soul,   purify  the  heart  from  selfish 
pollutions,  and  animate  to  great  and  beneficent 
action.     Indeed,  nothing  great  or  eminently 
beneficial  ever  has  been,  or  can  be  effected 
>vithout    enthusiasm— without  feelings   more 
exalted  than  the  consideration  of  simple  mat* 
terof  fact  can  produce*    That  Romances  have 
a  tendency  to  excite  the  enthusiastic  spirit, 
we  have  the  evidence  of /act  in  numerous  in- 
stances.   Hereafter,  we  shall  hear  the  great 
Milton  indirectly  bearing  his  testimony  of  ad- 
miration and  gratitude  for  thehr  inspiring  in- 
fluence.   It  is  of  little  consequence,  compa-^ 
ratively  speaking,  whether  all  the  impression^ 
made,  be  founded  in  strict  philosophical  truth. 
If  the  imagination  be  awakened  and  the  heart 
warmed,  we  need  give  ourselves  little  concern 
about  the  final  result.    The  first  object  is  to 
ielicit  power.    Without  power  nothing  can  be 
accomplished.  Should  the  heroic  spirit  chance 
to  be  excited  by  reading  Romances,  we  have, 
alas !  too  much  occasion  for  that  spirit  even 


In  modem  timesi  to  wish  to  repress  its  ge- 
neration. Since  the  Gallic  hero  has  cast  his 
malign  aspect  over  the  nations^  it  is  become 
almost  as  necessaiy  to  social  security>  as  during 
the  barbarism  of  the  feudal  times.  There  is 
now  little  danger  of  its  being  directed  to  an 
unintelligible  purpose. 

Romances  then^  not  only  merit  attention^ 
as  enabling  us  to  enter  into  the  feelings  and 
sentiments  of  our  ancestorskr*a  circumstance 
in  itself  curious,  and  even  necessary  to  a  com^- 
plete  knowledge  of  the  history  of  past  ages ; 
they  may  still  be  successfully  employed  to  a<- 
waken  the  mind— -to  inspire  genius  :  and  when 
this  effect  is  produced,  the  power  thus  created 
may  be  easily  made  to  bear  on  any  point  de« 
sired** 


& 


■*• 


^  *  Thbse  who  hkvt  the  taste  to  be  intereste<)  in  Romantic  Ii» 
teniture,  are  under  toniiderable  obligations  to  Mr.  Sou^hcy^  for 
his  translation  of  Amadk  de  Guulf  the  most  celebrated  of  all 
the  old  Romances.— This  is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  beatntifttl 
books  that  ever  was  written  ;  and  the  translation  is  certainly  as 
faithful  a  one  as  ever  appeared.  The  Romances  are  all  trans« 
lated  either  from  French  or  lulian  translation;  the  costnnie 
corrapted ;  the  morals  rendered  still  worse,  aodihC'true  cha* 

VOL.  I.  V 


"  It  is  no^  tipe  to  close  the  ^EeccHmttjjTkioSift 
printed  by  Caxton.-  The  few  from  wliic^  I 
haye  giveri  extracts,  together  with  the  aecom"i 
panjing  remarks^  witt  serve  to  assist  the  unin* 
formed  reader  to  some  idea  of  thelitera-^ 
tsre  of  this  period.  Caxton  began  to  pfirint^as 
we  have  seen,  in  1471;  hut  it  ^  lemarkable, 
that  from  that  ye^jr  to  1540^  during  which  pe- 
riod th&  English  press^^  was  in  a  very  florislung 
state,  under  manji  ingenious,  learned,  and  in^ 
dustrious  artists,  only  the  few  fbilowing  clas^ 
sics,  (if  tliey  m.erit  that  title,)  were  pcinted  ii;i 
]Bngland>  viz.  Bpethius  de  Consolafioney  ^h 
Latin  and  English^  for  Caxton,  without  date. 

incntr  ci  lan|(utg6  utterly  lost  la  tht  Jtaaadi4  dfi  Qmii  of  Son* 
they,  these  faults  are  corrected  ;  ivL  particular,  that  half  of  R(^ 
ger  Ascham^s  objection  to  such  composkions  vfhich  respect 
their  wdeHcaey,  is  completely  obviated,  either  by  the  total  re* 
jection  of  the  objectionable  passages,  or  by  veiling  their  gross- 
ness  ;  anc^the  chastest  ears .  may  now  listen  without  a  blUsh 
tb  the  talei  of  fchivakous  heros,  tnd'tMr  intisrci^rs^  with 
i3tic\v  adored  fair  0Bes.^ThA  Paliaedn  of  EogkM»  i.Ui^t  W^ 
h$h^,  is  aziQCker  oi  tiie  admired  pnp4uci;lioAs  of  chif 9)ry.  It  H 
shout  X50  y^m  later  tbaii  dtm^ ;  it,  is  inf^jtor  ^o  in  o^edi^  f 
jpet  it  po9Si!s$es  nxuch  interest,  and  is  lIHejf^ise  c^i^d  with  gr^it 
care. — ^We  have  l^eard  also,  that  the  s\tibj$ct  of  Rpijt^^nee  i» 
:«lK>ut  to  mceive  f)M  iHustration  fwm  the  antiquartari  ari4  cl*^ 
^cal  pen ) of  Mr  Walter  Scot;  and  we  togy  be  panAitlf4l» 
hope,  that  the  public  curiosity  will  not  be  disappointed. 


-.1 


(J<^  ^orde,  15C;j3,  4tp.  ^nd  oi^ce  or  twice  after^-. 
w^rds.— IJ'^rencp,  with  the  Comment  of  Badi- 
us  Aspens  jug,  fo^  the  s?ime,  15P4>  4to.— Vii:- 
gil's  Bucpilics,  for  the  same,  151%,  4tp. ;  an4 
again  in  1533.— TuUy's  Office^,  L^tin  ancl 
English,  translated  by  Whittingtop,  1533,  4to. 
-r-Qne  book  only^  Tully's  Epistles,  \y^as  pro- 
duce4  during  this  period,  by  the  University  of 
C|xford  5  and  t;hat  wa§  at  the  exp^nce  of  Car- 
dii^al  Wojsey,  without  date,*  or  printer*?  name* 
Py  Cambridge,  nbt  a  single  classic. 

No  Greek  book  had  as  yet  appeared  from, 
an  English  press.     In  Linacer's  translation  of 
Galen  d(?  Temperan^ntisj  printed  at  Cambridge 
ii;  1521,  4to.  are  found  a  few  Greek  words  and 
abreviations,  which  are  said  to  be  the  first  Greek 
characters  ever  used  in  England.    The  book 
was  printed  by  John  Siberch,  afriend  of  Eras- 
mus, and  a  German,  who  stiles  himself  |?nV2«/sf 
utriusque  linguae  in  Anglia  impressor*    But  he 
printed  no  entire  Greek  book.    The  introduc 
tipn   of  Hebrew^  Chaldee,  Arabic  types,  &c 
was  still  later,  and  attended  with  more  diffi 
pulty. 

It  is  observable,  that  most  of  the  book?* 
printed  by  Caxton^  were  translated  from  the 

u2. 


9QQ  ROMANCE. 

French.  From  what  has  been  already  said, 
the  reasons  must  be  obvious.  The  knowledge 
of  the  learned  languages  was  not  sufficiently  ex* 
tended  to  make  it  the  interest  of  the  first  print- 
ers to  publish  the  classics.  Besides^  the  atten* 
tjion  of  the  whole  reading  world  was  pre-occu- 
pied  by  the  more  splendid  and  marvellous  tales 
of  chivalry;  not  to  mention  the  superstition 
which  pervaded  all  ranks^  and  which  rendered 
such  books  as  ordinals^  confessionals^  and  par* 
ticularly  such  as  tended  to  encourage  the  libe- 
ral contributions  of  the  faithful>  more  grateful 
to  holy  church,  than  the  prophane  lore  of  hea- 
then authors. 

Yet,  even  the  illiteracy  of  the  times  was  a  cir- 
cumstance favourable  to  English  literature: 
for  the  multiplication  of  English  books  neces- 
sarily multiplied  English  readers;  and  these 
igain  produced  more  vernacular  writers. 

The  reason  why  none  of  the  existing  trans- 
lations of  the  Old  and  New  Testament  were 
printed,  is  explained  by  a  passage  of  sir  Tho- 
mas More;  who  says,  "  That  on  account  of 
the  penalties  ordered  by  archbishop  Arundel's 
constitution,  though  the  old  translations  that 
were  before  Wicliffe's  days,  remained  lawful, 
aqd  were  in  some  folks  hands,  had  and  read. 


ROMAIMSS* 


993 


yet  (he  thought)  no  printer  would  lightly  be  so 
hot  toput  any  bible  in  print,  at  his  own  charge^ 
and  then  hang  upon  a  doubtful  trials  whether 
the  first  copy  of  his  translation  was  made  be- 
fore Wicliffe's  days^  or  since:  for  (says  he,) 
if  it  be  made  since,  It  must  be  approved  be* 
fore  the  printing.''  •  This  approbation,  ho^- 
ever^  sir  Thomas  himself  intimates,  was  not  to 
be  obtained. 


(    Sd4   ) 


FAbiA^. 


KoBERT  Fabian,  or  Fabyan,  was  torn  in 
liOndon^  though  in  what  particular  year  is  not 
mentioned.  Being  brought  up  to  trade^  he 
l>ecame  an  opulent  merchant,  was  ultimately 
chosen  one  of  the  aldermen  of  the  city,  and 
in  the  9th  of  Henry  VII.  had  the  honour  of 
being  elected,  one  of  the  sheriffs.  He  died  in 
1512. 

For  the  period  in  which  he  florished,  he  was 
a  man'of  some  learning.  In  his  knowledge  of 
the  Latin,  he  was  excelled  by  no  layman  of 
his  time.  He  likewise  wrote  poetry  in  Eng- 
Bsb,  Latin,  and  French ;  but  his  favourite  pur- 
suit  was  the  ^tudy  of  history ;  and  he  compiled 
a  Chronicle,  by  which  his  name  has  descended 
to  posterity.    Of  this  Chronicle,  stiled,  *'  The 


O^nteordatince  bf  Stories/'  the  Ibllowing  ac^ 
c^oiint   is   given   in    tfafe   Biog^aphia  Bfitai^- 

i  a  ft  vrasfirdt  printed  in  London,  iil  1^^6,  foL 

ty  R;  Pynson,  and  afterwards  by  Wiili^un  Ras- 

.tell,  li83>  foL  in  neat  and  i^aii  blaqkirtypeSf 

Khd  oh  ^G(^ '{^per.    At  the  cohdusion  of  each 

foiii  thtSjfe  is  a  hyihn  to  the  Virgin  .Maryi 

(bhiit^d  in  tb^  following  'editions.)    And  at 

theekidofall^^^IlinsmdeUi  Fabian's  Chroni* 

t\e^    Printed  hg  WiUicaaLRasti^>  weA  jyl^yshed 

th6  ladte  d^e  of  Deoetnberi  in  %Ue  ytre.of  our 

Lbrd^,  M.  V.  G;  and  toxiii/    TReite  ai«  aUo  at 

thi^  etid  fite  leiavest^  wlit<Eh  bring  down  the>  hii- 

^ry  t^  the  beginiiii^  ^of  kiiig  H^iry  VIII.  but 

kte  ohkifted  in  ^subsequent  edilitnis>  ^Mtiticujarly 

k  o^  of  tt^  y^ar  \i^5%  now  h^^ott  i^,    Th^ 

i^hole  Work  Is  divided  infco  two  vdlumesc  wbet^ 

of  tb^  filrdt  beghis  at  Bmtei  and  t$iA%  at  tb{^ 

fleath  bf  btir  tteniy  IL  and  Philip  Q.  king^ 

JPlflitlde.     The  secodd  vdlunie^  Whi(^  is  the 

fubst  vduableiof  the  \ikxK  contains  the  Chro^ 

• 

iricfeB  of  Ebglind.  aiid  of  France,  iVom  the  be- 
^niirg  of  the  reign  of  king  Richard  I.  until 
the  end  of  thfe  r*ign  of  Chafles  IX.  of  France ; 
that  fisy  tiH  the  yeto  1504^  the  £Oth  of  king 
Hcojjr  ¥11.  Ahd  it  appears  ky^tbelst>ncltt»i00, 


\ 


296  FABIAK. 

that  it  was  finished  hy  the  author,  Nov^ber 
7th,  1504.    The  second  volume  begins  with  an 
account  of  the  wards  of  London,  and  the  pa? 
rish  churches  in  each  ward ;  and  then  are  set 
down  the  bailiffs  of  that  city  under  every  year„ 
from  the  time  they  were  appointed,  that  is^ 
from  1190,  until  the  year  1209,  when  the  twQ 
bailiffs  were  converted  by  king  Jqhn,  into  9, 
mayor  and  two  shireves^    Of  these  th^  author 
gives  exact  lists,  under  each  year,  as  far  a^  biiii 
Chronicle  reaches.    He  comprehends,  as  it  i^ 
said  in  the  tide*page,  the  Chronicles  of  Eng- 
land and  of  France;  not  altog^her,  or  under 
the  respective  years,  but  in  distinet  chapters 
or  articles,  deiloted  in  tlie  beginning  by  the 
words  Anglia  and  FranciarrrWe  are  told  that 
Cardinal  Wolsey,  caused  as  many  copies  pf 
this  book  as  he  could  come  at,  to  be  burnt, 
because  the  author  had  made  too  clear  a  dj^cor 
very  of  the  clergy.    As  for  the  character  it 
bears,  'tis  called  by  one  who  was  a  good  judge, 
^^  painful  labour,  to  the  great  honour  of  die 
city,  and  of  the  whole  realm/    He  is  very  par^* 
ticular  in  the  affairs  of  London,  many  good 
things  being  noted  by  him  (which  concern  the 
government  thereof,)  hardly  to  b<e  had  dse*» 
fF^ere.    In  the  beginnip^  of  his  sev^th  part. 


/ 


VABIAH.  $07 

« 

he  observes  Ralph  Higden's  method  of  making 
his  years  commence  at  Michaelmas ;  and  is  iA 
other  respects  a  great  follower  of  that  author.** 
The  story  of  king  Lear,  and  his  three  daugh* 
ters,  as  related  in  the  first  book  of  Geoffrey  of 
Monmouth,  and  which  has  been  immortalized 
by  Shakespeare,  we  find  detailed  also  in  Fa- 
bian ;  chapters  14,  15,  and  16. 

Lear,  the  son  of  Baldud,  was  made  ruler  over  the 
Britons,  the  year  of  the  world  4338.  This  Lear  was 
noble  of  conditions,  and  guided  his  land  and  subjects 
in  great  wealth.  He  made  the  town  of  Caerleyr, 
BOW  called  Leyceter,  or  Leycester.  And  albeit  that 
this  man  held  long  the  principality  of  Britain,  yet 
of  him  is  nothing  left  worthy  memory,  except  that 
Gaufrid  saith,  that  he  received  of  his  wife  three 
daughters  only,  without  any  son,  which  were  named 
Conorilla,  Ragan,  and  Cordelia;  the  which  he  much 
loved,  but  most  specially  he  loved  the  youngest,  Cor* 
delia  by  name. 

When  this  Lear,  or  Leyth,  after  some  writers,  was 
fellen  in  competent  age  to  know  the  mind  of  his 
three  daughters,  he  first  asked  Conorilla,  the  eldest, 
bow  well  she  loved  him ;  the  which,  calling  her  Gods 
to  record,  said  she  loved  him  more  than  her  own 
CPUl^  With  this  •answer  her  father  being  well  con- 
i^pted,   dynwyded  of  Ragan,  the  second  daughter^ 


^98  FABIAN, 

hpw  well  she  loved  him.    To  whom  she  answered, 
and  affirming  with  great  oaths,  said  that  9he  cotdd^ 
abt  with  her  tongue  express  the  great  love  that  she. 
bare  to  him ;  affirming  fuithermore,  that  she  lovbd 
him  above  all  creatures.    After;  these  pleasant  an- 
swers, had  of  those  two  daughters,  he  called  before^ 
him  Cordelia,  the  youngest,  the  which  understand- 
ing the  dissimulation  of  her  two  sisters,  intending  to 
prove  her  father,  /  said,  Most  reverend  father,  where 
my  two  sisters  have  dissembled  with  thee,  with  th^ir 
'   pleasant  words  fruitless,  I,  knowiiig  the  great  lov€ 
and  fatherly  zeal  that  toward  me  ever  before  this 
time  thou  hast  borne^  (for  the  which  I  may    not. 
speak  to  thee  otherwise  than  my  conscietice  leadedi. 
me^)  th«:^fOre  I   say  to  thee,  father,  I  have  loved 
thee  even  tu»  my  father,  and  shall  conthiually  white 
I  liviB,  love  thte  as  to}'^  natural  fath^er.    And  if  thoti 
Mrilt  further  be  inquisitive  of  the  bve  that  I  to  the4 
bear ;  I   ascertain  thee,  that  as   much  as  thou  art 
worthy  to  be  beloved,  even  so  much  I  love  thee  and 
no  more.  ■ -» 

The  father  with  this  answer  beiiig  discontent, 
married  his  two  elder  daughters,  that  one  unto  th^ 
duke  of  Cornwall,  and  that  other  unto  the  duk6>of  Al« 
bania,  or  Scotland,  and  divided  with  then!  two  iii 
marriage,  his  land  of  Britain,,  after  hi^  death ;  ^nd 
the  one  half  in  hsgid,  daring  his  patural  life.  A^ 
ftr  the  third, . Cordelia,  rested  QoUbing.'   *-     -    •  ^ 


FABIAN.  ^[99 

It  ^0  fortuned  after,  tb^t  Aganippus,  "which  the 
.  Chronicle  of  England  named  A  gamp,  and  king  of 
France,  heard  of  the  beauty  and  womanhood  of  Cor- 
delia; and  sent  unto  her  father,  and  axed  her  iu 
marriage.  To  whom  it  ^was-  answered,  that  the  king 
would  gladly  give  to  him  his  daughter;  but  for 
,  dower  he  would  not  depiart  with:  for  he  had  all  pro- 
mised unto  his  other  two  daughters. 

Agatiippus,  thus  by  his  meMflfoyfr**  informed,  re- 
lih^mbered  the  virtues  of  the  forewarned  Gbrdelia,  and 
Without  promise  of  dower,  married  the  said  Cor- 
delia. 

But  here  is  to  be  rioted,  that  where  this  Ag^nlppus, 
or  Agamp,  is  called,  in  divers  Chronicles,  king  of 
France,  it  cannot  agree  with  other  histories,  nor 
with  the  Chronicle  of  Prince:  for  it  is  testified  by 
Po^tkfonica,  by  Peter-  Pictavfence,  by  mafetcr  Ro- 
bert Ga^wyne,  by  bishoji  Aritoiiyiie,  and  mdny  6thcr 
Chroriicieis,  that  long  after  this  day  there  was  no 
kin^  in  Firdnce ;  nor  long  after  it  w&s  called  Friance ; 
but  at  this  day  the  iilhabitants  thereof  were  called 
Galliy  and  mre  tributdries  unto  Rome,  without  king^ 
till  the  time  of  Valentlniattus,  empeiror  of  Rbme^  as 
heredfterin  this  Work  shlall  be  manifestly  shewed. 

Ilie  stoiy  of  Britons  saith,  that  in  the  time  Ihfet 
Lear  reigned  in  Britain,  the  land  of  France  was  un- 
der the  dominicm  of  twelve  kings,  of  the  which  Agi» 


1 

u 


mfissenfisfs* 


300  VABtAK. 

nippas  should  be  one.  The  which  saying  is  full  of 
unlike  to  be  true,  which  might  be  proved  by  many 
yeasonsy  which  I  pass  over  fior  length  of  time. 

Then  it  followeth  in  the  story^rafter  this  Lear 
was  fallen  in  age,  these  foresaid  two  dukes  thinkr 
ing  long  or  the  lordship  of  Britain  was  fallen 
to  their  hands,  arose  again^  their  father,  (as  tes- 
tifieth  Gaufrede,)  and  bereft  him  the  governance 
»f  the  land  npon  certain  conditions,  to  be  con- 
tinued for  term  of  life.  The  yrhich,  is  process  of 
time,  more  and  more  were  mirmhed^  as  well  by 
M4glaunuSy  as  by  Henninus,  husbands  of  the  fore- 
Ytamed  Conorilla  and  Rag^.  But  most  displeased 
Lear,  the  unkindness  of  his  two  daughtets,  consider- 
ing tfieir  words  to  him  before  spoken,  and  sworn^ 
sad  liowibuiid  and  proved  them  all  contrary.  « 

For  the  which  he  being  of  necessity  constrained, 
fed  his*  land,  and  sailed  into  Gallia^  f«r  to  be  com- 
forted of  his  daughter  Cordelia  ;  whereof  she  having 
(oowledge,  of  natural  kindness^  comforted  him.  And 
after  shewing  all  the  manner  to  her  husband,  by  his 
agreement^  received  him  and  his  to  her  lord's  court, 
where  he  was  cherished  after  her  best  manner. 

Long  it  were  to  shew  unto  you  the  circumstance 
of  the  utterance  of  the  unkindness  of  his  two  daugh- 
lersy  and  of  the  words  of  comfort  given  to  him  by 
ilganippus  and  Cordelia^  or  of  the  council  and  pur« 

'asalnsc:  'diminished* 


?AB1AN.  sot 

^nyzntt  made  by  the  said  Aganippus  and  his  lords, 
for  restoring  of  Lear  again  to  his  dominion.  But 
finally,  he  was,  by  the  help  of  the  said  Aganippus^ 
restored  again  to  his  lordship;  and  so  possessed, 
lived  as  ruler  and  governor  thereof  by  the  space  of 
three  years  after;'  in  which  season  died  Aganippus. 
And  when  this  Lear  had  ruled  this  land  by  the 
term  of  forty  years,  as  affirmeth  divers  Chronicles, 
he  died  and  was  buried  at  his  town  of  Caerleir,  or 
Leister ;  leaving  after  him  for  to  inherit  the  land,  his 
daughter  Cordelia* 

Cordelia,,  the  youngest  daughter  of  Lear,  was,  by 
assent  of  the  Britons,  made  lady  of  Britain,  in  the 
year  of  the  world,  four  thousand  three  hundred  and 
ninety-eight,  the  which  guided  the  land  full  wisely, 
by  the  time  or  space  of  five  years  complete;  the 
which  time  expired  and  run,  her  two  nephews,  called 
Margan  and  Cunedagi,  sons  of  her  two  sisters,  came 
upon  her  land,  and  made  therein  great  waste  and  de- 
struction ;  and  at  the  last  took  herand  cast  her  into  a 
strong  prison,  where  she,  being  despaired  of  the  re- 
covery of  her  estate,  (as  testifieth  Gaufryde,)  slew 
herself,  when  she  had  reigned,  as  before  is  declared, 
by  the  term  of  five  years. 


I  filiall  present  the  reader  with  one  extract 


mpife  taken  from  the  83d  chapter.  It  is| 
the  relation  of  the  celebrated  interview  be- 
tween Vortigern  and  Rowena^  (stiled  by  oyr  au- 
thor Ronowen,)  together  with  the  arrival  of 
St.  Germain,  and  bishop  Lupus,  to  extirpate 
the  Pelagian  (or  according  to  Fabian,  the 
Arian)  heresy.  Both  these  gtories  are  related 
in  the  third  book  of  Geoffrey  pf  Monmouth. 

Then  by  the  sonde  of  Hengist,  came  with  sixteen 
sails,  Ronowen,  the  daughter  of  the  said  Hengist, 
which  was  a  maiden  of  excellent;  beauty.  After 
whose  coming,  Hengist,  upon  a  day,  besought  the 
king  that  he  would  see  his  castle,  which  he  had 
newly  edified.  To  whose  request  the  king  was 
agreeable ;  and  at  the  day  assigned,  came  to  the  said 
castle,  where  he  was  joyously  received.  And  there, 
anibng  other  pastimes,  the  said  Ronowen,  with  a  cup 
of  gold,  full  of  wine,  presented  the  king;  saluting  and 
saying,  wassayle.  The  king,  which  before' that  time 
had  heard  no  like  salutation,  nor  yet  understood 
what  she  meant,  axed  of  her  father  what  she  meant 
by  that  word  wassayle.  To  whom  it  was  ans\yered 
by  Hengist,  that  it  was  a  salutation  of  good  and  glad-* 
ness,  and  that  the  king  should  drink  after  her,  joining 
thereunto  this  answer — drink,  hail!  Wherefore  the 
king,  as  he  w^s  informed,  took  the  cup  of  the  mai-«> 
den's  hand,  and  drank  i  and  after  b^eld  th^  wepch 


FABIAN*'  SOS 

ifi  sucli  manner,  that  he  was  wounded  wkh  the  dart 
of  the  blind  god  Cupid,  that  never  after  h^  coult^ 
withdraw  his  love  from  the  wenc^ ;  but  lastly,  by 
in^tigati^on  of  t^ie  devil,  ax^d  her  ip.  marris^e  o(  beK 
fetber*  And  by  force  thereof,  as  witne;sseth  Pol]/" 
cronica,  he  put  from  ,hjm  his  l^v^fvl  wife,  of  th? 
which  he  had  before  time  received  three  noble  son3,r 
called  Vortimerps,  Catagrinu$,  and  Pasceptiu§.  Thea 
the  king  gave  unto  Hengistus,  the  lordship  of  Kent, 
tbo'  G.axangonus,  thf  n  earl  tliereof,  thereat  grudged, 
with  many  of  his  Britons. 

For  this  and  for  that,  that  the  king  had  piarried  ^ 
woman  of  \incoi|th  bekve^  well  near  all  the-  Briton^ 
forsook  him  and  his  works.  Nevertheless,  som^ 
there  were,  as  well  nobles  ai^d  other,  that  comforted 
the  king  in  his  evil  4ping.  By  which  ?n^n  and  oth^r 
wd^l  deeds,  then  daily  u^ed,  the  faith  of  Christ  be- 
^an  sore  to  appal.  .  And  over  that,  an  heresy,  called 
Arian's  heresy,  began  then  to  spring  ii^  Britain.  For 
the  which,  tw,o  holy  l^i^hops,  nam^ecj  G^rmanus  an^ 
Lupus,  as  of  Gaufryde  is  witnessed,  came  into  Britain 
to  reform  the  king,  and  all  other  that  erred  from  the 
-way  of  truth. 

Of  this  holy  man,  St.  Germayn,  Vincent  JMisto- 
rial  saith,  that  upoj^  an  evening  whei^  the  weather 
was  passing  cold,  and  the  snow  fejl  very  fast,  l^,e 
axed  lodging  of  the  king  of  Britain,  for  him  and  his 
compeers,  which  was  denied.     Then  he,  after  sitting 


304  FABIAI^. 

tliid^r  a  bti&li  in  the  Held,  the  king's  herdmah  passed 
by,  and  seeing  this  bishop  with  his  company  sitting, 
ih  the  weather,  desired  him  to  his  house  to  ta:k« 
there  such  poor  Icklging  as  he  had.  Whereof  the  bi^ 
shop  being  glad  and  fain,  yode^  unto  the  hoiiseof  the 
daid  herdman,  the  which  received  him  with  glad 
cheer.  And  for  him  and  his  company,  willed  kis 
wife  to  kill  his  only  calf,  and  to  dress  it  for  his 
guest's  supper;  the  which  was  also  done.  When  the 
holy  man  had  supped,  he  called  to  hitn  his  hostess, 
wiHing  and  desiring  her,  that  she  should  diligently 
gather  together  all  the  bones  of  th^  dead  calf;  and 
them  so  gathered,  to  wrap  together  within  the  skin 
of  the  said  calf.  And  then  it  lay  in  the  stall  before 
the  rack  near  unto  the  dame«  Which  done  accord* 
ing  to  the  commandmeilt  of  the  holy  man,  shortly 
Itfter  the  calf  was  restored  to  life ;  and  forthwith  ate 
day  with  the  dam  at  the  rack.  At  which  marvel 
all  the  house  was  greatly  astonished,  and  yieldeA 
thanking  unto  Almighty  God,  and  to  that  holy  bi^ 
shdp. 

Upon  the  morrow,  this  holy  bishop  took  with 
him  the  herdman,  and  yodt  unto  the  presence  of  the 
king,  and  axed  of  him  in  sharp  wise,  why  that 
over-night  hfe  had  denied  to  him  lodging;  Where^ 
with  the  king  was  so  abashed,  that  he  had  no  power 
to  give  unto  the  holy  man  answer.  Then,  St  Ger- 

*  went. 


.   FABIAK^  305 

m&in  said  to  him:  I  charge  thee^  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord  Gbd^  that  thou  and  thine  depart 
from  this  palace,  and  resign  it  and  the  rule  of  thy 
land  to  him  that  is  more  worthy  this  room  than 
thou  &tU  The  which  all  thing  by  power  divine 
was  observed  and  done ;  and  the  said  herdman,  by 
the  holy  bishop's  authority,  W^  s6t  int6  the  same 
dignity ;  of  whom  after  descended  all  the  kings  of 
Britain. 


#»J.    •!»>' 


Of  the  chdLtstciet  of  Pabiart,  tts  Ati  hfstorfatt, 
Wttrti[>rt>  in  his  History  6f  fetiglish  Foetry, 
gives  tfce  foMowltig  account  :-*-^''  Ont  atfthor 
19  the  d\l]l^§t  of  i[«oift]^il6t9^.  H^  Is  eejtidl/ 
nciemtive  to  the  mayors  o#  LmdOtt^  ahd!  txjt 
Ihe  iftondrchs  of  Eilgliit^id ;  fttid  s6^ms  to  havtf 
ihou^t  tht  Al^ti^n  al  Gdildh^^  said  the 
p£ig66sittt^9  6f  the  Aif  ^btnpatiies^  ihore  itkt^r^ 
€stiiig  tl(^nilaedo6s^  dl^  duf  vietorie^  ill  Fir^ce 
^Aont  dtrviggleti  A>r  public  llbi^rty  ^  hoxA^. 
Otiii  (^  Ffitbiaii's  historic^  Anecd^te^,  under 
the  important  reigfi  of  Henry  V.  ls>  that  a 
neir  wear^et^eek  was  plaeed  oii  the  top  of 
St»  P^ul^s  steeple.  '^^  esirlier  eha^telfs  of  thei^ 
tfbiklish  annak  ^ithfuQy  i^eecird  all  tho^e 
fsb^leras^  tr«dkio«i£(  whiieh  generaJly  supply  th« 
fUaoe  of  hist^rijc  monuifteti^  n&  desifitibittg  the 
otjgin^f  a  greAi;  iH^ioni^ 

VOL.  t.  X 


(  ao6  ) 


%  / 


V    ■ 


REVIVAL  OF  LETTERS, 


«.  • 


/ 


We  arc  now  arrived  on  the  confines  of  Kgbt. 
The  revival  of  classical  learning  about  themid-r 
die  of  this  century,  (the  1  jth,)  created  a  new^ 
apra  in  literature  and  in  human  affairs^  auapi* 
<^pus  tp  every  species  of  improvepiej^it.  From 
^e  influence  of  this  event  upoxi  the  subsequent 
progress  of  knowledge,  and  particularly,  of  the 
English  language,  it  may  be  pr6per,  before  en- 
ticri^g  on  the  reign  of  Hc«ry  VIII.  to- give  a 
i^ursory  view  of  the  subje^t>  as  far  at  least  as  it; 
relates  to  the  introductiohiof  the  Grecian  an4^ 
]goman  learning  into  England. 
;  The  cqnnjeqtion  between  the  ancient  and  mo- 
dern .learning,  was  never  entirely  dissolved.  A- 
\wid«t  the  violence  and  general  insecurity  wh^eh 
prevailed  in  the  middle  agies,  the  Romish  cler-gy; 
«i vested  by  syperstitLoa  with  a  mysterious  and 
s*anctified  authority,  which  kept  the  yul^r  m 


i<^ 


<  so>  ) 

« 

nw^,  enjoyed  that  security  and  leisure,  which 
are  essential  to  intellectual  pursuits.  Tlie  mo- 
nastic libraries  contained  all  the  literature  p( 
the  times ;  and  a  few  out  Af-the  numbers  who 
were  intellectually  idle,  were  prompted  either 
from  inherent  activity  of  character,  or  simply 
as  a  remedy  for  listlessness,  to  read>  aftd  after- 
wards to  write.  We  are  thus  indebted  to  the 
monkish  writers  for  those  few  rays  of  light 
'  which  gleam  through  the  darkness  of  that  sa- 
vage period.  Though  the  taste  and  stile  of 
the  monkish  historians  are  as  barbarous  as  the 
age  in  which  they  lived ;  yet,  from  their  frequent 
allusions  to  ancient  hi^ory,  and  their  quota- 
tions of  ancient  authors,  it  is  evident  that  the 
more  dignified  atid  intelligeilt  churchmen 
were  familiar  with  the  Roman  learning.  But 
this  learning  was  <;onfined  to  the  cloi&t€r.  The 
profane  world  was  sunk  in  ignontnoe  and  bar* 
baiismi 

About  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century^ 
Dante,  Petrarca,  with  his  pupil  and  friend, 
Boccace,  in  Italy;  and  soon  after,  Chaucer 
and  Gower,  in  England,  by  the  cultivation  of 
their  vernacular  languages,  commenced  a  new 
sera  in  literary  taste,  and  contributed  to  en- 
large the  sphere  of  intellectu^  pleasures.    Pe« 

•  x2 


<    808    ) 

/ 

tr^rc^  w^  prg^ize4  for  th?  Wg^er  m4  iw» 
the  luost  pure  ^4  ex^Jtod  f^a^sipn^  e;xf«e«Sr 

^4  bis  glowuig  feelings  in  hngf^s^  ^^  <^^^ 

r€;sp<w4efl*  trvAh  ^u4  delici^cy.  Tl^^  ft(iriog$ 
of  tbfj  humw  i^^t,  vibra4^?ig  la  hwsumy, 
eckuQiyiledged  ^h^  touch  of  nature ;  )md  the 
poetry  of  Petr^^rc^  cre9.ting  9.  fia^r  iateUeetual 
Utct,  pf^dujE^^d  in  a  few  mindi^  a  distaste  for 
tommtic  imagery  and  the  peeuU  a|]  tie«  of  Go  thic 
ipftnn^rs.  This  incipieipit  diffisioji  of  ajuster 
s^Bjtiniemt^  prep9.red  the  wa^y  for  th«  complete 
est^blUbm^t  of  ql^ssical  refinement  in  the 
s^cce^dipg  cc^utwry. 

.  ]Frop^  the  time  yfhm  the  Gieek  language 
i^rst  \mf^^m^  ^  phjisct  of  ci^ciosity  m  England, 
to  the.p^rtf>d  of  Cheke  and  Smithi  those  of  out 
cowt]:yinea  whom  literary  ardourstimulated  to 
the  acquisition  of  Grecian  karning,  were  com* 
pelled  to  resort  to  Italy,  and  even  to  Greece.  It 
appears  that  there  were  some  symptoms  of  the  re- 
vival of  the  Roman  and  Grecian  classics  ia  Eng- 
land a.bont  the  time,  and  even  hepore  thecs^ture 
of  Constantinople  (1453)  impelled  the  learn- 
ed Greeks  to  a  refuge  in  Italy.  Among  these 
early  classical  scholars,  I  shall  mention  only  a 
few  who  weie  the  most  distinguished,  or  the 


(    S09    ) 
effects  of  whos^  eff^rti  have  heem  mtM  p^r^ 

Wiltiam  Gtocyn^  M^^  of  N^  CoUege^  Ox^ 
toti,  perK^t^  bi»  knowledge  of  the  Qtetk 
ifcHigtteat  Flor^hce^  uader  iDemetrii^id^  Cha}coti<^ 
dylas,  and  PoUfkn ;  amid  at  Rome  und^r  Her*^ 
fiiolftus'  Blai^Msrus'.  On  his  rettirn>  to  England^ 
asid'  b^fcnre  fh^  ytear  14Q0,  h^  voluM^iy  be«- 
eatiie  the  flr#t  tectnrer  in  that  llanguage  at  Ox- 
fM^.  It  ill  alSahitKidx  howewr,  by  Polydorer 
Virgil,  j^oBablj^  from  a  j^rtidity  to  his  ewi* 
coutttry,  that  Gomelius  Vitelhis,  an  Italian,  of 
noble  birth  and*  great  learning,  was  the  first 
Who  tau^h^  ^e  Greek  and  Rotnim  classics  ii^ 
tiiat  uitivelrsi^. 

Johti  Tiptofi,  the  unforttmate  earl  of  Wor- 
'Cester,  was  inferior  to  none  of  die  ecclesiastiei^ 
of  his  time  in  bis  diligent  pursuit  of  ancient 
learning.  He  studied  at  Padua ;  aaid-  by  the 
pui'ity  anrfelegacnce^of  hi«  Latinity,  recommend- 
ed himsrelf  to  the  notice  of  pope  Pius  the  Se- 
cond, and  other  literati  of  the  Italian  schooL 
His  Latitr  letters'stlll  remain  to  evince  the  just- 
ness of  this  encomium.  Moreover,  he  trans- 
lated Cicero's  Biafogue  on  Friendship,  into 
English;  which  was  printed  by  Gaxton,  in 
rWl,  fol.    He  likewise  translated  into  Eng- 


(     SIQ    ) 

lish  tvKO .  elegant  .L»tia  oratioos  of  Banatusiti^ 
Magnomontanus,  supposed  to  be  spoken  by 
C,  Scipio,  and  C,  Jflaminius,  rivals  in  the 
courtship  of  Lucretia,  These  were  also  print-* 
ed  by  Caxton,  with  Tully's  two  Dialogues 
above  mentioned.  Tip^oft  was  tb?  general 
patron  of  all  those -of  his  cpimtiymen^  wUa 
were  actuated  with  the  curio^ty.  to  penetrate 
the  mines  of  antiquity,  and  tp  enter  on  the 
new  plan  of  study.  The  Humphr^dian  libra- 
ry at  Oxford  was  instituted  about  this  tim^ ; 
and  he  l^id  prepared  a  pre&ient  for  it  of  s&». 
lect  MS,  bookSj  valu^  at  five  hundred  marks  i 
though  there  is  some  doubt  whether,  at  the 
carl's  execution  in  1470,  they  had  ever  been 
received  by  the  university.  Wood  pbserves, 
that  he  had  meditated  a  similar  benefaction 
to  Cambridge. 

Italy  was  at  this  time  the  general  mart  for 
ancient  authors,  especially  the  Greek  classics; 
and  it  is  scarcely  questionable  that  the  above 
MSS.  were  purchased  there.  Th^  Turkish  em-, 
perors,  now  seated  at  Constantinople,  were  ig-< 
norant  of  the  value  of  these  treasures ;  and  they 
1;>ecame  interesting  objects  of  commerce  to 
Italian  emissaries  dispatched  to  purchase  books^ 
wUicU  they  afterwards  sold  in  their  owto  coun-i 


(    31 1     ) 

try,  It  was  chiefly  through  this  channel  that 
the  famous  Florentine  library  was  formed  by 
Cosmo  and  Laurence  of  Medici,  and  by  the 
dukes  of  Florence^  their  munificent  succes- 
sors. 

Ltily,  the  famous  grammarian,  resided, 
about  the  year  1500,  during  five  years,  in  the 
island  of  Rhodes.  Hence,  we  are  informed  by 
Rhenanus,  that  he  was  not  only  acquakited 
with  the  whole  circle  of  Grecian  authors,  but 
with  the  domestic  life  and  familiar  conversa-* 
tion  of  the  Greelus.  He  was  the  first  teacher 
of  Greek  at  jany  public  school  in  England, 
He  was  appointed  head  luaster  of  St.  PauFs 
school^  in  1510,  by  dean  Collet,  the  founder* 
After  his  r/esidence  at  Rhodes,  he  added  an 
additional  polish  to  his  Latin  stile  at  Rome, 
under  Johannes  Sulpicius,  and  Pomponius 
Sabinus ;  and  thus  became  one  of  the  most  ac- 
complished scholars  of  his  ,agQ.  He  died  of 
the  plague  in  1522. 

This  practiqe  of  visiting  Italy  and  Greece 
for  instruction,  was  encouraged  by  some  of 
the  bishops,  though  they  had  received  their 
education  in  the  English  universities.  Pace, 
one  of  our  learned  countryraen,  and  friend  of 
£rasmus,  was  removed,  while  yet  a  boy,  by 


(    919    ) 

Lan^en,  bishep  ef  Wim\mH:ib^  from  ^ 
school  withia  the  precdooU  "^  o|  his  own  pi^Mf 
to  the  university  of  Pftdua.  Th^^  sam^  Ittskop 
bequeathed  by  will  to  this  bis  scholar,  an  ex^ 
hibition  of  t^n  pounds  a  year,  for  seven  yearSi 
to  support  him  wbib  studying  at  Boiymia. 
His  insmictors  at  Padua  were  Cudibert  Toot* 
stall  afterwards  bishop  of  Durhaxp^  ^nd  ^ugh 
Latimer. 

Again^  before  the  year  ISQOy  l^iehard  Crok«^ 
one  of  the  fl^t  restorers  of  the  Gre0k  lamniaM 
in  England,  was  educated  at  ti|e  expeac^of 
archbishop  Wareham,  at  th^  uni^emties  of 
Paris,  Iiouvf^ia,  an4  Leipsie.  He  aft^drwasda 
succeeded  Erasmus  in  the  Clreeh  pro&ssonibi(i 
at  Cambridge.  Crokf^  published  ^  CDlog^f ^ 
fntrodmHoms  in  Rudimenta  Grae^  i5ftO^  steir 
dicate^  to  his  patron  archbishop  Wareham^ 

About  this  time,  strong  sympfcHAs  were  bhh 
Hifested,   that  t;he  mists  ef  ancient  prejiidice 

*  It  y^s  customary  in  these  early  times,  for  the  bishop?  to 
e()ucate  in  their  families  a  number  of  youths,  particularly  the 
sons  of  the  nobles  ani^  of  gen«lomen.  In  thc^  iStK  ceatiiryv  Grmh 
tbete,  bishop  of  Lmcoifi,  ^du^rsited  iq  thi?  m^Tkpcir  mm%  of  tht 
nobility  in  the  kingdom.  These  youths  were  placed  there  ii\ 
quality  of  pages :  Filio$  nobiUum  procerum  regni^  quos  Hcum  ftc- 
buit  domtceUos.^— Cardinal  Wohey  likewise  educated  in  1m9 
hpuse  n^vky  of  tlie  young  nobilj^ 


(    818    ) 

|i7Ar«  clearing  off.  From  the  year  1503  to  dia 
ireforsnation,  iiearl;  twei^ty  new  grammar 
fcboQb  were  founded  ^d  ^^ndowed  in  Eog^ 
land-p-a  greater  number  tha^  l^^d  been  €st»» 
Uished  fpr  thrive  centuries  before.  Among 
ti^se  waft  cardini^l^  Wolsej'ft  school  at  I|N5f« 
1iiriqh-*f*aQ  institution  wbicl^  nralled  those  of 
Wincbester  as^d  Eton,  la  additioii  to  the 
scholars,  it  consisted  of  a  dean,  twelve  canc^^ufy 
^Ad  a  numerous  choir. 

As  i^arlj  as  the  year  1506,  we  &aji  a  lecturer 
established  at  Christ  V  College,  in  Cambridge  ; 
Who>  together  with  logic  and  philosophy,  is  or* 
4f  red  to*  lead  vel  ex  foetarum,  vel  eap  oapoto^ 
rum  9fenbmf  This  wa.si  m  the  course  of  co}^ 
l(e^iate  dUscipliner  A  Hkore  decisive  instance 
oC  aa  «tteiii^t  t<^  depart  fi^ota  the  ancient  coa* 
tracted  fim  ^  tduef^iouj  occurs  in  the  ap- 
j^Qtmeivt  of  two  professprs  foe  t}^  Greek  and 
lAtii^  lairguages,  by  Vo^p  bkbop  of  Winches*  ^ 
ta:>  oa  his  fQUndingj  of  Corpus  Cbrisii^  CqU 
jlege,  QafJkjoA^  in  the  year  1517*  Tk^  !Mttia 
|«o£eflsor  ia  expressly  directed  to  extirpate  bar« 
bariam  ixiom  tbe  new  scitc^ety ;  ao^  his  leourse 
•£  lectuces  wjts  not  restricted  to  the  l^fQdt&of 
tbe  cpUege>  but  open  ix)  the  stutdenta  of  the 
pniversity  in  general.     The  Greek  lecturer 


(    Si4    ) 

was  instructed  to  exf^n  the  best  Greek  cks« 
flics  ;  and  the  poets,  historians,  and  orators 
which  are  particalarly  mentioned,  are  among 
the  purest  extant. 

About  the  year  151 9>  was  founded  also  at 
Oxford,  by  cardinal  Wolsey,  a  public  lecture 
in  rhetoric  and  humanity.  He  soon  after  esta- 
blished the  first  public  chair  in  England  for 
the  Greek  language.  Both  of  these  lectures 
were  endowed  with  ample  salanes.  Four  or 
five  years  afterwards,  a  public  lecture  for  the 
learned  languages  was  opened  at  Cambridge> 
by  Robert  Wakefield,  at  the  instance  of 
Henry  VHI.  And  it  should  be  mentioned  to 
the  henouT  of  Robert  Barnes,  prior  of  the  Au- 
gustines,  at  Cambridge,  4;hat  he,  assisted  by 
his  scholar,  Thomas  PameH,  explained  Plautus, 
Terence,  and  Cicero,  within  the  precincts  of 
his  own  monastery.  About  the  same  time 
also,  Erasmus  expounded  *  at  Cambridge  the 
grammar  of  Chrysoloras.  Erasmus  was  ad- 
mitted lady  Margaret's  professor,  about  151], 
being  the  fourth  from  its  foundation.  Among 
itliese  early  scholars  also,  bishop  Fischer  and  sir 
Thomas  More  hold  a  distingnisbed  rank  ;  but 
I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  particu-^ 
larly  of  them  hereafter.  . 


(    S15     ) 

Bot  these .  bold  attempts  at  improvement 
did  not  pass  without  the  most  violent  op- 
position. Tlie  university  of  Oxford  was  rent 
into  factions^  under  the  classics^  and  hostile 
appellations  of  Greeks  and  Trojans.  The  lat- 
ter we^e  the  champions  of  the  schools,  and  of 
the  old  modes ;  the  former  were  the  advocates 
of  the  new  plan  of  study ;  who,  unable  to  pre- 
vail by  persuasion  and  argument,  were  fre- 
quently urged  to  blows  with  th^ir  bigotted 
and  obstinate  antagonists.  These  absurd  and 
dishonourable  contests,  which  the  prowess  of 
the  parties  themselves  was  ineffectual  to  decide, 
were  at  length  appeased  by  the  good  sease, 
and  especially  by  the  wit  and  ridicule,  of  sir 
Thomas  More'*^. 

Attention  now  began  to  be  paid  to  improve 
the  ve^isicular  language.  Erasmus  particu- 
larly mentions  Collet,  dean^  of  St.  Paul's,  who, 
with  a  view  to  adorn  the  stile  of  his  dis- 
courses, employed  much  time  in  the  perusal 
of  Chaucer,  Gower,  Lydgate,  and  other  Eng- 
lish poets ;  but  students  still  visited  Italy,  to 
give  the  last  polish  to  their  Latin  stile.  This 
combination  of  endeavours  to  introduce  a  li« 

*  See  his  Epistola  Scholasticis  quibusdapi  Trojanos  se  appeh- 
l^tibtif,  published  by  Hcaroe,  1710,  8to. 


C    SIS    ) 

brial  pkn  of  edacatiop  and  stndy^  was  finally 
fm>wned  bj  tbe  magnificept  establishment  of 
WolseyV  College^  now  Ct^f ist  Churchy  at  Ox- 
fe«d>  toi  iKhiefa  were  invited  the  most  aecom^ 
plished  scholars  in  Enrope^  and  for  the  libra- 
fj  of  which  were  d^esigned  transcripts  of  aU  the 
Talsable  MSS.  of  the  Vatican,. 

These  ans^icions^  beginnings^  however^  were 
»oon  intermpted  from  serei^  causes:-—!.  The 
projected  divorce  of  Henry  VIU^  from  queen 
Csthafiifee,  had  the  ef^ect^  for  a  time^  of  se^ 
pIongiDg  the  literary  world  into  all  the  idle 
dispiUattohs  of  theologic  subtlety  and  casuis- 
tical refinement*— 2.  The  reformation^  wkieb^ 
tbovgh  so  fmitM  in  greaH  and  beneficent  ef- 
fects, was  hostile  to  the  caltivation  of  polite 
learning,  and  to^  the  formation  of  a  just  and 
idefpaat  tmte*,r^3^  The  dissolution  of  the  mo* 
ndstcries  operated  as  a  temporary  check  to  the 
pmgresB  of  improvement.  The  monastic  in- 
stkutions^  generally  speaking,  were  the  nuitses 
of  indolence  aiid  i^iteracy,  and  the  bulwarka 
of  a  halcfal  superstition.  Yet  they  affordfed 
Jfri^ure  iinil  opportunities  for  study^  whieh^ 
fhqng^  commtHiIy  neglected,  were  sometimes 

fUSnftapcihc  tttider  milt  Bnd  somewhaT  expanded  at  the 
cwBincniTOiciit  of  t£c  seeoMi¥otmae» 


(    817    ) 

I 

employed  to  useful  porpoises.  Maiqr  c(  the 
abbots  were  learned  men^  of  liberal  viewrs,  and 
hence  piatrons  of  learnings  They  appropriated 
a  portion  of  tlieir  superBuouft  reveoues  to  the 
education  of  youth,  (particularly  the  sons  of  no* 
blemen^)  in  theit  monasteries ;  which  were  the 
schools  for  all  the  towns  and  villages  in  their  vi-* 
einity.  And  though  the  intellectual  light  wliich 
these  schools  diffused^  was  merely  a  gUnuner-* 
ing  of  knowledge,  sttillit  was  I)etterdMui  total 
night.  When  the  monasteries  were  abolisbed^ 
learning  was  left  without  support;  and  the 
youths  deprived  of  the  hope  of  reward,  re^ 
sorted  to  mechanical  employments ;  and  pro^ 
vincial  ignorance  became  universaL 

Still  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  was,  upon  tlie 
whole,  highly  favourable  to  the  progress  of  let-» 
ters.  Henry  united  in  his  own  person  the  ri- 
val  claims  of  the  liouses  of  York  and  Lan* 
caster^  whose  sanguinary  contests  had  so  long 
deluged  the  kingdom  with  blood.  These  dis^ 
astrous  struggles  for  power  being  thus  at 
an  end,  the  arts  and  amusements  of  peace 
began  to  revive,  and  this  reign  is  justly  consi-' 
dered  as  forming  an  important  sera  in  literary 
history. 

lu  the  year  1535,  the  king  issued  injunc-^ 


/ 


(    S18    ) 

tion^  to  the  university  of  Cambridge,  for  th* 
reformation  of  study.  The  dialecties  of  Ro- 
do]phus  Agricola,  the  favorite  of  £rasmu»> 
and  the  logic  of  Aristotle,  are  prescribed  to  be 
taught;  and  the  unedifying  problems  of  Seo-> 
tus  and  Burlaeus  abolished ;  as  likewise  the 
tedious  commentaries  on  Peter  Lombard's  sen- 
tences. Moreover,  classical  lectures  were  esta- 
blished^  and  the  books  of  Melancthon,  with 
other  esteemed *writers  among  the  reformers 
recommended.  These  improvements  were 
especially  promoted,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter^ 
by  Cheke  and  Smith,  who  probably  did  more 
than  any  other  two  individuals  to  sfecure  the 
establishment  of  ancient  learning  among  us^ 


K^enrp  vin. 


<    S21    ) 


»    ■•. 


v.'* 


FROISSART. 


Sir  John  Froissakt  was  bom  at  Valeil* 
ciennes,  about  1337,  and  subsequently  became 
canon  and  treasurer  of  Chlmay,  in  the  diocese 
of  Liege,  in  Hainault.  But  he  is  chiefly  known 
to  posterity  by  a  general  history  of  France  and 
Spain,  with  other  parts  of  Europe,  and  parti- 
cularly of  England,  from  the  year  1326,  to 
1400.  Though  born  a  Frenchman,  he  spent 
the  greater  part  of  his  youth  in  the  court  of 
our  Edward  III.  and  many  years  after  was  fa- 
mili^rly  conversant  in  that  of  Richard  II.  He 
wrote  in  French,  his  native  language,  in  hi» 
time  the  court  language  of  England. 
.  His  writings  were  much  corrupted  by  tran- 
scription ;  and  even  the  printed  copies  which 
were  taken  on  the  introduction  of  printing, 
were  chargeable  with  equal  and  similar  faults, 
which  consisted  chiefly  in  names  and  numbers. 

VOL,  I.  Y 


522  fHOII^SAltlf. 

His  work  was  tt^uislated  into  English  by  sir 
John  Bourchier,  lord  Berners,  'deputy  of  Ca*- 
lais,  at  the  command  of  Henry  VHI.  and  printed 
by  Pinson,  in  1523.  In  this  English  edition^ 
m^ny  of  the  errors  alluded  to  are  corrected. 

Froissart  died  about  1402,  having  ended  his 
life  and  his  story  almost  at  the  same  time. 


The  Author's  Prologue. 

Chap.  1. 

To  the  intent  that  the  honourable  and  noble  aven-* 
tures  of  f<eat8  of  arms  done  and  atchieved  by  the 
wars  of  Firance  and  England,  should  notably  be  en- 
registered  and  put  in  perpetual  memory,  whereby 
the  prewe  and  hardy  may  have  ensample  to  encou- 
rage thenl  in  their  well  doing,  I,  sir  John  Froissart, 
will  treat  and  record  a  history  of  great  huage^  and 
praise.  But  or  L  begin,  I  require  the  Saviour  of  all 
the  World,  who  of  nothing  created  all  things,  that  he 
will  give  me  such  grace  and  understanding,  that  I 
may  cOntrJTe  and  jo^ctja^*  in  suth  wise,  that  whoso 
this  process  readeth  or  heareth  may  take pastaunce% 
pleasure,  and  ensample.    It  is  said  of  truth,  that  all 

*  Zouan^f, ^praise.  ^persevere  spaftlme. 


bailditigd  are  masoned  and  wrought  of  divers  stones ; 
And  all  great  rivers  are  gutged '  and  assembled  of  di*** 
vers  surges  and  springs  of  water*  In  likewise  all 
sciences  are  extraugkt^  and  compiled  of  divers^ 
clerks.  Of  that  one  writeth^  another  peradven- 
ture  is  ignorant.  But  by  the  famous  writing  of 
ancient  authors,  all  things  ^en  knowen  in  one  place 
or  other. 

Then  to  attain  to  the  matterUhat  1  haveenprized 
\  wiU  begin  first,  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  of  the 
blessed  virgin,  our  lady,  St.  Maiy,  from  wh6m  all 
comfort  and  consolation  proceedeth;  and  will  take 
my  foundation  out  of  the  Chsonicles,  sometime.com-* 
piled  by  the  right  reverend,  discreet,  and  sage  master 
John  la  Bele,  sometime  canon  in  St.  Lanbartis,  of 
Liege,  who  with  good  heart  and  due  diligence  did 
his  true  devoier  in  writing  this  noble  Chronicle,  and 
did  continue  i^  all  his  life  days,  in  following  the 
truth  as  near  as  he  might,  to  his  great  charge  and 
cost,  in  seeking  to  have  the  perfect  knowledge 
thereof. 

He  was  also  in  his  life  days  well-beloved,  and  of 
the  secret  council  with  the  lord  sir  John  of  Hainault^ 
who  is  often  remembered  (as  reason  requiretb,)  here- 
after in  this  book:  for  of  mai^  fair  and  noble  aven- 
tures,  he  was  chief  causer ;  and  by  whose  means  the 
said  sir  John  la  Bele,  might  well  know  and  hear  of 

'gorged.  2  extracted. 

y2 


324  FROISSART. 

many  divers  noble  deeds,  the  "which  hereafter  shall  be 
declared.  Truth  it  is,  that  I  who  have  enterprized 
this  book  to  ordain  for  pleasure  and  pastaunee,  to 
the  which  always  I  have  been  inclined,  and  for  that 
intent  I  have  followed  and  frequented  the  company 
of  divers  noble  and  great  lords,  as  well  in  France, 
England,  and  Scotland,  as  in  divers  other  countries, 
and  have  had  knowledge  b^  them.  And  always  to 
my  power  justly  have  enquired  for  the  truth  of  the 
deeds  of  war,  and  aventures  that  have  fallen ;  and 
specially  since  the  great  battle  of  Poitiers,  whereas ' 
the  noble  king  Jqhn  of  France  was  taken  prisoner; 
as  before  that. time  I  was  but  of  a  young  age  or  under- 
standing. Howbeit,  I  took  on  me  as  soon  as  I  came 
from  school,  to  write  and  receive  the  said  book,  and 
bare  the  same  compiled  into  England,  and  presented 
the  volume  thereof  to  my  Iftdy  Philippa,  of  Hainault, 
noble  queen  of  England,  who  right  amiably  received 
it,  to  my  great  profit  and  avancement.  And  it  may 
be  so,  that  the  same  book  is  not  as  yet  examined  nor 
corrected,  so  justly  as  such  a  case. require th:  for 
feats  of  arm's  dearly  bought  and  atchieved,  the  ho- 
nour thereof  ought  to  be  given  and  truly  divided  to 
them  that  by  prowess  and  hard  travail  have  deserved 
it.  Therefore  to  acquit  me  in  that  behalf,  and  in 
following  the  truth  as  near  as  I  cai^  I  John  Frois- 
sart,  have  enterprised  this  history,  on  the  foresaid 

*  whereat* 


rROISSABT.  S%5 

ordinance  and  true  foundation,  at  the  instance  and 
request  of  a  dear  lord  of  mine,  sir  Robert  of  Namur, 
knight,  lord  of  Beaufort ;  to  whom  entirely  I  owe 
love  and  obeisance.  And  God  grant  me  to  do  that 
thing  that  may  be  to  bis  pleasure.    Amen. 


Of  the  Manners  of  the  Scots  in  the  I4fth  century,  paftir 
adarly  in  War, — Chap.  17- 

These  Scotsmen  are  right  hardy,  and  sore  tra- 
vailing in  harness  and  in  wars :  for  when  they  will 
enter  into  England,  within  a  day  and  a  night,  they 
will  drive  their  whole  host  twenty-four  mile :  for 
they  are  all  a  horseback,  without  it  be  the  truandaU ' 
and  laggered  of  the  host,  who  follow  after  a 
foot.  The  knights  and  squires  are  well  horsed ;  and 
the  common  people  and  others  on  little  hackneys 
and  geldings;  and  they  carry  with  them  no  carts 
nor  charytes  •  for  the  diversities  of  the  mountains 
that  they  must  pass  thro*  in  the  county  of  Northum- 
berland. They  toke*  with  them  no  purveyance  of 
brei^l  nor  of  wine :'  for  their  usage  and  soberness  is 
such  in  time  of  war,  that  they  will  pass  in  the 
journey  a  great  long  time  with  flesh '  half  sodden, 
without  bread,  and  drink  of  the  river  water, 
without  wine;     and    they    not  her  ^    care   for  pots 

>  tniants,  itnggleis*        *chafiots«        stake,       <  neither. 


SSiS  FEOISSART. 

nor  pans:  for  they  seeth  beasts  in  their  own 
skins.  They  are  ever  sure  to  find  plenty  of 
beasts  in  the  county  that  they  will  pass  thro', 
therefore  they  carry  with  them  none  other  pur- 
veyance j  but  on  their  horse,  between  the  sad- 
dle and  the  pannel,  they  trusse^  a  broad  plate  of 
metal,  and  behind  the  saddle,  they  will  have 
a  little  sack  full  of  oatmeal,  to  the  intent  that 
when  they  have  eaten  of  the  sodden  flesh,  then 
they  lay  their  plate  on  the  fire, 'and  temper  a 
little  of  the  oatmeal;  and  when  the  plate  is  hot, 
they  cast  off  the  thin  paste  thereon;  and  so 
make  a  littl^  cake,  in  manner  of  a  crakenell, 
or  biscuit;  and  that  they  eat  to  comfort  withal 
their  stomachs.  Wherefore  it  is-  no  great  mar- 
vel though  they  make  greater  journeys  than  other 
people  do. 


I  would  willingly  have  given  amuch  longer  ex- 
tract from  Froissart^  and  one  more  characteristic 
of  his  peculiar  manner :  but  the  literary  world 
is  aware  that  a  new  translation  of  him  was 
given  to  the  public,  in  1805,  by  Mr.  Thomas 
Johnes,  in  which  the  names  of  persons  and 

^  thnist. 


\ 

I 

places,  disfigured  in  the  original,  are  cor- 
rected. This  ancient  historian  may  now  be 
read  with  all  the  facility  of  a  modern  author, 
aB  the  ordinary  reader  is  no  longer  repelled 
either  by  inconvenient  bulk  of  volume,  or 
by  antique  peculiarities  of  language.  For 
this  edition,  which  i«  in  four  volumes  4to.  se- 
veral MSS.  in  the  translator's  own  library,  as 
v^ell  as  in  the  British  Museum,  were  collated 
with  the  printed  copies  4  many  improved  read- 
ings adopted,  and  even  some  chapters  added, 
which  were  not  ill  any  of  the  printed  editions. 
—Another  edition  was  published  last  year,  in 
12  vols.  8vo. 

Froissart  was  a  well  informed  historiait.  That 
period  of  English  history  of  which  he  treats,  is 
much  indebted  to  him.  He  spared  no  pains 
in  collecting  his  materials,  and  visited  the 
courts  of  princes,  that  he  might  avail  himself 
of  the  best  sources  of  information,  both  by  the 
^collection  of  memoirs,  and  by  [the  conversa*  ' 
>tion  of  those  who  had  the  management  of  af« 
fairs.  He  resided  for  a  long  time  at  the  court 
of  the  princess  Philippa,  daughter  of  the  earl 
of  Hainault,  and  wife  of  Edward  III.  king  of 
England.  His  narrative  is  very  copious,  though 
lively  and  interesting.     He  has  been  accused 


328  FROISfiART.      . 

of  being  too  partial  to  the  English^  and  of  be- 
stowing  upon  them  higher  encomiums  than  on 
the  French,  because  the  latter  neglected  to  re- 
ward his  labours,  whereas  the  former  remu- 
nerated him  with  a  handsome  salary.  His  ac- 
count of  the  affairs  of  Edward  III.  and  his  un- 
fortunate successor  Richard  II.  is  the  fullest 
and  best  extant. 

His  history  has  been  abridged  in  Latin,  by 
Sleidan,  the  German  historian  and  political 
writer,  who  complains  in  his  preface,  ^hat 
Froissart  is  too  prolix,  relating  every  partici^ar 
at  full  length;  and  that  he  is  particularly 
faulty  in  this' respect  in  his  descriptions  of  mi- 
litary preparations,  skirmishes,  single  combats, 
storming  of  places,  and  the  speeches  and  con^ 
versations  of  princes. .  But  it  is  this  very  pro- 
lixity—this minuteness  of  description,  which 
chiefly  renders  Ftoissart  interesting  to  a  mo-^ 
dem  reader.  His  principal  historic  facts,  sim- 
ply considered^  may  be  re^d  perhaps  with  equal 
advantage,  and  with  a  much  less  expence  of 
time,  in  the  compressed  form  of  modern  com- 
pilations ;  but  here  they  are  divested  entirely 
of  the  costume  of  the  age.  Froissart  lived  in 
the  age  of  chivalry ;  had  imbibed  its  senti- 
ments^ was  famiUaji  with  its  manners;    and 


FROISSART.  329 

must  have  been  often  an  eye-witness  of  tilts 
and  tournaments — ^the  sportive  images  of  those 
real  and  terrible  battles  which  he  paints  with 
such  romantic  colouring.  It  is  this  quality 
which  made  Caxton  class  him  with  the  writers 
of  romance  in  the  passage  above  quoted*.  In 
Froissart,  then,  we  not  only  see  the  historic  facts 
in  all  their  copiousness  of  detail,  but  blend- 
ed with  those  peculiar  sentiments  and  feel- 
ings which  characterised  the  times  in  which 
he  lived.  Such  works  must  be  curious  and 
valuable^  till  the  knowledge  of  past  ages  shall 
cease  to  be  an  object  of  curiosity. 

Notwithstanding  the  declaration  of  Sleidan, 
that  he  has  omitted  nothing  of  moment,  his 
abridgment  is  by  no  means  executed  with 
fairness  and  impartiality ;  and  he  has  been  ac- 
cordingly censured  by  Humphry  Lluid,  in  the 
following  terms  :  Ihm  Gallico  nomini  nimium 
fdverety  Anglorum  nobilissima  gesta  aut  si- 
lentio  preteriitj  aut  ab  autore  dissentiensy  ali^ 
ter  quam  a  Froissardo  scriptum  est,  litem  com" 
mendavit. 

Froissart  was  also  a  poet,  as  well  as  an  his- 
torian. He  is  even  said  by  Pasquier,  in  his 
Recherches  de   la  France,  to  have   been    the 

*  See  page  S4d, 


3S0 


rnoissAET. 


founder  of  a  new  species  of  poetry— such  as 
the  chant-royal,  the  ballad^  the  pastoral^  and 
the  rondeau*. 


*  See  Godwin's  life  of  Chaucer,  4to.  Vol.  IL  p.  351. 


(    331    ) 


FISCHER, 


,  Bhhop  of  Rochester. 


The  fate  of  this  celebrated  prelate  was  inti- 
inart;ely  connected  with  that  of  sir  Thomas 
More,  the  subject  of  the  succeeding  article. 
Both  were  alike  the  victims  of  the  tyrannic 
vengeance  of  Henry  VIIL  and  martyrs  to  po- 
pery. Bishop  Fischer  was  born  in  1459,  and 
was  the  son  of  a  merchant  of  Beverly,  in 
Yorkshire,  He  received  the  rudiments  of  his 
education  under  the  tuition  of.  a  priest  of  the 
collegiate  church  in  that  town ;  and  entered  at 
Cambridge,  in  1484,  where  he  took  his  de« 
grees  in  arts  in  1488,  and  1491-  He  was  ap- 
pointed in  1495,  one  of  the  proctors  of  the 
university,  and  elected  master  of  Michael- 
House,  (now  Trinity-College)  his  own  college. 
Jn  1501,  he  took  the  degree  of  doctor,  and  the 


352  FISCHER. 

same  year  was  elected  chancellor  of  the  uni- 
versity; which,  however,  he  resigned  in 
1514,  recommending  as  his  successor,  Wolsey, 
hishop  of  Lincoln,  who  was  accordingly 
chosen.  But  he  thinking  proper  to  decline  the 
honour,  the  university,  indignant  at  his  rejec- 
tion, and  bound  in  gratitude  to  Fischer,  imme- 
diately chose  the  latter  perpetual  chancellor, 
or  during  life;  which  is  the  first  instance  of 
such  a  choice. 

Prince  Arthur,  eldest  son  of  Henry  VII.  wai 
at  this  time  living ;  and  prince  Henry>  (after- 
wards Henry  VIII.)  being  designed  for  an  ec- 
clesiastic, was  placed  under  the  tuition  of  Fis- 
cher, who  hence  became  acquainted  with  Mar- 
garet, the  famous  qpuntess  of  Richniond,  and 
mother  of  Henry  VIL  His  merit  soon  ob- 
tained him  the  office  of  chaplain  and  confessor 
to  her  ladyship,  whose  confidence  in  him  was 
unbounded.  In  1504,  he  was  promoted  to  the 
see  of  Rochester ;  and  though  it  was  the  least 
valuable  of  the  bishoprics  at  that  time,  he  re- 
fused, with  a  , disinterested  magnanimity,  ever 
to  exchange  it  for  a  better. 

On  the  29th  of  June,  1509,  death  deprived 
both  him  and  the  public  of  their  noble  bene- 
factress, whose  virtues  and  accomplisbmeuts 


FISCHEK.  3S3 

he  celebrated  in  a  funeral  sermon.  Three 
years  after,  he  was  nominated  to  attend  the 
Lateran  council  at  Roufie,  as  appears  by  the  ar- 
chives of  St.  John's  CoDege,  though  from 
some  cause  or  other,  he  wars  prevented  fron^  un- 
dertaking the  journey. 

It  was  in  the  year  1527  that  Henry  VIII. 
first  proposed  to  him  the  dangerous  ques- 
tion respecting  the  validity  of  his  marriage 
with  queen  Catharine;  when  the  upright 
bishop,  in  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  his 
conscience,  declared  it  to  be  legal  in  the 
sight  of  God  and  man,  and  that  from  this 
opinion  he  would  never  depart.  Accordingly, 
when  the  oath  required  by  the  act  of  supre* 
macy  was  tendered  to  him,  he  refused  to  take  ^ 
it,  was  sent  prisoner  to  the  Tower,  and  his  bi- 
shopric declared  void  from  the  second  of  Ja- 
nuaiy,  1535. 

In  May  of  the  same  year,  and  while  he  was 
in  the  Tower,  the  pope,  Paul  III.  in  consi- 
deration of  his  virtues,  and  of  his  faithful  at- 
tachment to  the  religion  of  Rome,  created 
him  cardinal,  by  the  title  of  cardinal  priest  of 
St.  Vitalis.  The  king,  enraged  at  his  receiving 
the  cardinal's  hat,  prohibited  its  being  brought" 
to   England ;  exclaiming  with  facetious  cru- 


334  F1SCHES4 

elty — ^^  Well,  let  the  pope  send  him  a  hat 
when  he  will;  mother  of  God !  he  shall  wear  it 
on  his  shoulders  then  :  for  I  will  leave  him^ne- 
ver  a  head  to  set  it  on/'  He  was  beheaded  on 
the  22d  of  June,  1535,  and  the  next  day  hia 
head  was  fixed  upon  London  Bridg€. 

In  his  person,  bishop  Fischer  was  tfill, 
comely,  and  robust.  For  the  superiority  of 
his  talents  as  a  scholar,  as  likewise  for  the 
excellence  of  his  moral  character,  when  uii- 
influenced  by  superstitious  bigotiy,  we  have 
the  testimony  of  Erasmu.s ;  who  says  of  him— » 
**  That  he  was  a  man  of  the  highest  integri- 
ty, profound  learning,  incredible  sweetness  of 
temper,  and  uncommon  greatness  of  souL'* 
^The  words  of  Erasmus  are  remarkable,  and 
deserve  to  be  quoted. — '^  Reverendus  Episcopm 
Rojfensis,  vir  non  solum  mirabili  integritate  vitte, 
verum  etiam  alta  et  recanditd  doctrindy  turn  mo^ 
rum  quoque  incredibili  comitate  commendatus 
maximis  pariter  ac  minimis.  Aut  egregie  falloTf 
out  is  vir  est  unusy  cum  quo  nemo  sit  hac  tempes' 
tate  conferendus,  vel  integritate  vita,  vel  erudi* 
tione,  vel  animi  magnitudineJ' 

It  is  remarkable,  that  even  in  his  old  age, 
his  literary  ardour  urged  him  to  learn  Greek  of 
Erasmus. 


But  notwithstanding  his  virtues,  and  the  ge* 
neral  benevojence  of  his  character,  the  perse-^ 
cuting  and  odious  principles  of  his^  reUgion, 
rendered  him  inhumanly  severe  against  the  re- 
formers. In  conjunction  with  his  friend  sir 
Thomas  More,  he  seized  all  the  books  of  Lu- 
theranism,  as  well  as  of  the  Lollards,  punishing 
with  severity  those  in  his  diocese  who  followed 
the  errors,  as  he  called  them,  of  those  arch-he^ 
retics,  Wicliffe  and  Luther. 

He  was  the  author  of  various  works,  the 
greater  number  of  which  are  in  Latin.— 1. 
Assertionum  Martini  Lutheri  Confutation-^, 
Defensio  assertionis  Henrici  octavi  de  septum  sa-* 
eratnentis^S^c.-^Henry  VIIL's  book  against  Lu- 
ther was  ascribed,  at  the  time,  to  the  united 
labours  of  Fischer  and  More,  in  conjunctioii 
with  Lea,  afterwards  archbishop  of  York  ;  and 
sometimes  to  each  of  the  two  first  sepa- 
fately.  Collyer,  in  his  Ecclesiastical  Hi^ 
tory,  on  the  authority  of  lord  Herbert,  is 
not  of  this  opinion;  but  thinks  that  at  the 
request  of  the  king,  they  might  have  looked 
it  over,  and  probably  have  suggested  some 
alterations;  and  that  the  bulk  of  the  work 
was  composed  by    his  majesty,— 3. 


336  '  nscHBS. 

Id  Responsoria  Epistohe  Lutheri.-^.  Sacerdotii 
defensio  contra  Lutherum. — 5.  Pro  Damna- 
tione  Lutheri, — 6.  De  Veritate  Corporis,  et 
Sanguinis  Christi  in  Eticharistia,  adcersm  Oeco^ 
lampadium. — 7.  De  Unicd  Magdalend. — 8.  Pe- 
trumfuisse  Roma. 

His  English  works  consist — 1 .  of  Sermons,  of 
which  one  was  preached  at  the  fimeral  of 
Henry  VH. ;  and  one  at  the  funeral  of  Marga- 
ret, countess  of  Richmond.  The  latter  was  re- 
published in  1708,  by  Thomas  Baker,  B.  D. 
Another  of  his  sermons  was  preached  at  Lon- 
don, on  the  day  that  Luther's  writings  were 
publicly  burnt. — 2.  He  has  also  left  seyeral 
smaller  tracts  on  subjects  of  piety.— Most  of 
these  pieces  were  collected  and  printed  in 
1593,  at  Wurzburg,  in  one  volume  folio. 

I  shall  select  as  a  specimen,  the  character  of 
the  countess  of  Richmond,  from  his  sermon  at 
her  funeral.  The  text  is — Dixit  Martha  ad 
Jesum ;  from  which  he  takes  occasion  to  run  a 
parallel  between  Martha  and  that  celebrated 
woman.  The  sermon  presents  a  pleasing  view 
of  the  excellence  of  heart  by  which  she  was 
animated,  as  likewise  a  curious  picture  of  the 
superstition  of  the  times. 


thirst  I  8ay>  the  comparisoti  of  them  twa  may  be 
hiade  in  four  things  :  in  nobleness  of  person  ;  in  dis-^ 
tipline  pf  their  bodies ;  in  ordering  of  their  souls  to 
God;  in  bospitaliti^  keeping  and  charitable  deal'^ 
ing  to  their  neighbours.  In  which  four^  the  noble 
woman  Martha  (as  say  the  doctors,  entreating  this 
gospel  and  her  life,)  was  singularly  to  be  commended 
and  praised ;  wherefore  let  us  consider  likewise,  whe^ 
ther  in  this  noble  countess  may  any  thing  like  bn 
found. 

First,  the  blessed  Martha  was  a  woman  of  noble 
t>lobd,  to  whom  by  inheritance  belonged  the  castle 
of  Bethany ;  and  this  nobleness  of  blood  they  have 
trhich  descended  of  noble  lineage.  Beside  this,  there 
is  a  nobleness  of  manners^  withouten  which  the  no* 
bleness  of  blood  is  much  defaced:  for  as  Boeciui| 
taith,  If  ought  be  good  in  the  nobleness  of  blood>  it 
is  for  that  thereby  the  noble  men  atid  women  should 
be  ashamed  to  go  out  of  kind,  frotn  the  virtuous 
manners  of  their  ancestry  before.  Yet  ^so  there  ia  * 
another  nobleness^  which  ariseth  in  every  person,  by 
tiie  goodness  of  nature,  whereby  fhll  often  such  as 
come  of  right  poor  and  unnoble  father  and  mother, 
have  great  abilities  of  nature  to  noble  deeds.  Above 
all  the  same  there  is  a  four  manner  of  nobleness, 
which  may  be  called  an  encreased  nobleness,  as  by 
tnarriage  and  affinity  of  more  noble  persons,  such  as 

V9L*  U  X 


558  ti&tnt^^l 

were  of  le^s  condition,  may  increase  in  higher  degree 
of  nobleness. 

In  every  of  these  I  suppose  this  countess  was  no* 
hie.  First  she  came  of  noble  blood,  lineally  de- 
scending of  king  Edward  III.  within  the  four  degree 
of  the  same.  Her  father  was  John,  duke  of  Somer- 
set;  her  mother  was  called  Margaret,  right  noble  as 
well  in  manners  as  in  blood,  to  whom  she  was  a  very 
daughter  in  all  noble  manners :  for  she  was  boun- 
teous and  liberal  to  every  person  of  her  knowledge 
or  acquaintance.  Avarice  and  caoetyse  she  most 
hated,  and  sorrowed  it  fall  much  in  all  persons^ 
but  specially  in  any  that  belonged  unto  her.  She 
was  also  of  singular  easiness  to  be  spoken  unto,  and 
full  curtarse^  answer  she  would  make  to  all  that 
came  unto  her.  Of  marvellous  gentleness  she  wa» 
unto  all  folks,  but  specially  unto  her  own,  whom 
she  trusted  and  loved  right  tenderly.  Unkind  she 
would  not  be  unto  no  creature,  ne  forgetful  of  any 
kindness  or  service  done  to  her  before ;  which  is  na 
little  pa)"t  of  very  nobleness.  She  was  not  vengeable 
ne  cruel,  but  ready  anon  to  forget  ahd  to  forgive  in- 
juries done  unto  her,  at  the  least  desire  or  motion 
made  unto  her  for  the  same.  Merciful  also  and  pi- 
teous she  was  unto  such  as  was  grieved  and  wrong- 
fully troubled,  and  to  them  that  were  in  poverty  or 
sickness,  or  any  other  misery. 

» courteous. 


•(ISCHEft.  '  SSb 

Td  God  and  to  the  church  full  obedient  and  tracts 
able,  searching  his  honour  and  pleasure  full  busily. 
A  wareness  of  herself  she  had  alway  to  eschew 
every  thing  that  might  dishonest  any  noble  woman, 
or  dtstain  her  honour  in  any  condition.  Frivolous 
things  that  were  little  to  be  regarded,  she  would  let 
pass  by,  but  the  other  that  were  of  weight  and  sub- 
stance, wherein  «he  might  profit,  she  would  not  let, 
^or  any  pain  or  labour,  to  take  upon  hand.  These 
and  many  other  such  noble  conditions,  left  unto  het* 
by  her  ancestors,  she  kept  and  increased  therein 
with  a  great  diligence» 

The  third  nobleness  also  she  wanted  not,  which  I 
said  was  the  nobleness  of  nature.  She  had  in  a 
manner  all  that  was  praisable  in  a  Woman,  either 
in  soul  or  bodyi  Firstj  she  was  of  singular  wisdom^ 
far  passing  the  tommon  rate  of  women;  She  was 
good  in  remembrance  and  of  holding  memory ;  a 
ready  wit  she  had  also  to  conceive  all  things,  albeit 
they  were  right  dark.  Right  studious  sh^f  was  in 
j30oks,  which  she  had  in  great  number^  both  in  £ng« 
lish  and  in  French,  and  for  her  exercise  and  for  the  pro-^ 
fit  of  others,  she  did  translate  divefs  matters  of  devo^ 
tion,  out  of  the  French  into  English.  Full  often  she 
complained  that  in  her  youth,  she  had  not  given  her  to 
the  understanding  of  Latin,  wherein  she  had  a  little 
perceiving,  specially  of  the  Rubryske  of  the  Ordinal, 
for.  the  saying  of  her  service,  which  she  did  well  undei^ 

z2 


54/0  FISCHES.  , 

stand.  Hereunto  in  favour,  in  words,  in  gesture,  is 
every  demeanor  of  herself,  so  great  nobleness  did  ap« 
pear,  that  what  she  spake  or  did,  it  marvellously 
became  her. 

The  four  nobleness,  which  we  named  a  nobleness 
gotten  or  increased,  she  had  also.  For  albeit,  she 
of  her  lineage  were  right  noble,  yet  nevertheless  by 
marriage  adjoining  of  other  blood,  it  took  some  eo- 
creasement.  For  in  her  tender  sige,  she  being  en- 
dued with  so  great  towardness  of  nature,  and  likeli- 
hood of  inheritance,  many  sued  to  have  had  her  to 
marriage.  Thei  duke  of  Suffolk,  which  then  was  « 
lAan  of  great  experience,  most  diligently  procured  to 
have  had  her  for  his  son  and  heir.  Of  the  contrary 
part,  king  Henry  VL  did  make  means  for  Edmund 
his  brother,  then  the  earl  of  Richmond.  She,  which 
as  then  was  not  fully  nine  years  old,  doubtful  in  her 
min4  what  she  were  best  to  do,  asked  counsel  of  an 
old  gentlewoman,  whom  she  much  loved  and  tmstedi 
which  did  advise  her  to  commend  herself  to  St.  "Si* 
cholas,  the  patron  and  helper  of  all  true  maidens, 
and  to  beseech  him  to  put  in  her  mind  what  she 
were  best  to  do  ?  This  counsel  she  followed,  and 
made  her  prayer  so  full  often,  but  specially  that 
night,  when  she  should  the  morrow  after  make  an- 
swer of  her  mind  determinately.  A  marvellous 
thing !  the  same  night,  as  I  have  heard  her  tell  many 
a  time,  as  she  lay  in  prayer,  calling  upon  St.  Nich^ 


FISCHBB.  341 

las,  whether  sleeping  or  waking,  she  could  not  as* 
sure,  but  al>out  four  of  the  clock  in  the  morning, 
one  appeared  unto  her,  arrayed  like  a  bishop,  and 
naming  unto  her  Edmund,  bade  take  him  unto  her 
husband.  And  so  by  this  means  she  did  incline  her 
mind  unto  Edmund,  the  king's  brother,  aild  earl  of 
Richmond,  by  whom  she  was  made  mother  of  the 
king,  that  dead  is,  (whose  soul  God  pardon,)  and 
grand-dame  to  our  sovereign  lord  king  Henry  VIIL 
which  now,  by  the  grace  of  God,  governeth  tha 
reaJm«  So  what  by  lineage,  what  by  affinity,  she 
had  thirty  kings  and  queens  within  the- four  degree 
of  marriage  unto  her;  besides  earls,  marquisses^ 
dukes,  and  princes.  And  thus  much  we  have  spoken 
of  her  nobleness. 

♦         ♦         ••♦..♦        *         # 

Her  sober  temperance  in  meats- and  drinks  was 

known    to    all  them   that  were    conversaiit    with 

• 

her,  wherein  she  lay  in  as  great  weight  of  her-i 
self  as  any  person  might,  keeping  alway  her  strait 
measure,  and  offending  as  little  as  any  creature 
might :  eschewing  banquets,  rere-suppers,  juiceries 
betwixt  meals.  As  for  faating,  for  age  and  feeble- 
ness, albeit  she  were  not  bound,  yet  those  days 
that  by  the  church  were  appointed,  she  kept  them 
diligently  and  seriously,  and  m  especial  the  holy 
Lent  throughout,  that  she  restrained  her  appetite,  till 
one  meal  offish  on  the  day ;  besides  her  other  peculiar 


542  FISCHER. 

fasts  of  devotion,  as  Sj;.  Anthony,  St.  Mary  Mag- 
dalene, St.  Catharine,  with  other ;  and  theraweout 
all  the  year,  the  Friday  and  Saturday  she  full  truly 
observed.  As  to  hard  clothes,  wearing,  she  had  her 
shirts  and  girdles  of  hair,  which  when  she  was  in 
health,  every  week  she  failed  not  certain  days  to 
wear,  sometime  the  one,  sometime  the  other,  that 
full  often  her  skin,  as  I  heard  her  say,  was 
pierced  therewith.  As  for  chastity,  though  she  al- 
way  continued  not  in  her  virginity,  yet  in  her  hus- 
band's daysi  long  time  before  that  he  died,  she  ob- 
tained of  him  license,  and  promised  to  live  chaste,  in 
the  hands  of  the  reverend  father,  my  lord  of  Lon- 
don; which  promise  she  renewed,  after  her  hus- 
band's death,  into  my  hands  again,  whereby  it  may 
appear  the  discipline  of  her  body. 

•  4t         ♦  •  *  ♦  ♦        •  • 

Ip  prayer,  every  day  at  her  uprising,  which 
commonly  was  not  long  after  five  of  the  clock,  she 
began  certain  devotions,  and  so  after  them,  with  one 
of  her  gentlewomen,  the  matins  of  our  lady,  which 
kept  her  to* — then  she  came  into  her  closet,  where 
then  with  her  chaplain,  she  Said  also  matins  of  the 
day ;  and  after  that  daily  heard  four  or  five  masses 
upon  her  knees ;  so  continuing  in  her  prayers  and  de- 
votions unto  the  hour  of  dinner,  which  of  the  eating 
day,  was  ten  of  the  clock,  and  upon  the  fasting  day 

*  There  is  an  omission  here. 


riscHEit;  348 

eleven.  After  dinner  full  truly  she  i^ould- go  her  sta?  , 
tions  to  three  altars  daily ;  daily  her  dirges  and  com- 
mendations she  would  say,  and  her  even  songs  before 
fiupper,  both  of  the  day  and  of  our  lady,  beside  many 
other  prayers  and  psalters  of  David  throughout  the 
year ;  and  at  night  before  she  went  to  bed,  she  fail- 
ed not  to  resort  unto  her  chapel,  and  th^re  a  large 
quarter  of  an  hour  to  occupy  her  devotions.  Nq 
marvel,  though  all  this  long  time  her  kneeling  was 
to  her  painful,  and  so  painful  that  many  times  it 
caused  in  her  back  pain  and  disease.  And  yet  never- 
theless, daily  when  she  was  in  health,  she  failed  ^ 
hot  to  say  the  crown  of  our  lady;  which  after -the 
manner  of  Rome,  containfeth  sixty  and  three  tvcesi 
and  at  fevery  ove,  to  make  a  knieeling*  As  for  medi- 
tation, she  had  divers  books  in  Freneh,  wherewith 
she  would  occupy  herself  when  she.  was  weaTy  of 
prayer.  Wherefore  divers  she  did  tran;slnite*:  qu t  of  the 
French  into  English.  Her  marvellous  weeping,they 
can  bear  witness  of,  which  here  before  have  hear^ 
her  confession,  which  be  divers  and  many,  and  at 
many  seasons  in  the  year,  lightly  every  third  day. 
Can  also  record  the  same  tho  that  were  present  at 

ft 

any  time  when  she  ws  homhilde^,  which  was  full 
pigh  a  dozen  times  every  year,  what  floods  of  tears 
Jhere  issued  forth  of  her  eyes !     She  might  well  say, 

*  A mong  which  was  the  Mirrot  of  Gold. 
*  Recpive^  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  supper. 


S44  yiscHEft. 

tanhts  aquarum  iedtueervni  ocuU  mei*  And  moreover 
to  the  intent  all  her  works  might  be  more  accaptabU 
and  of  greater  merit  in  the  sight  of  God,  »uch  godly 
things  she  would  t^ke  by  obedience,  which  obedienc* 
the  promised  to  the  forenamed  father,  my  lord  of 
London,  for  the  time  of  his  being  with  her,  and  af** 
terwards  in  likewise  unto  me;  whereby  it  may  appeat 
the  diligent  order  of  her  soul  to  God, 


The  ilhistrious  woinapi  whose  singular  vir-^ 
lues  aad  we^kn^sses  we  have  been  contemn 
plating,  and  ^hich  are  so  distinctive  of  the 
age  in  which  she  lived,  was  a  great  benefactress 
to  the  commonwealth  of  letters.  Inspired  by 
her  devotional  and  benevolent  spirit,  she  first 
instituted  at  Cainbridge,  in  the  18th  of  Henry 
VII.  (her  son),  a  perpetual  public  lecture  in 
divinity/  of  which  bishop  Fischer  was  appoint** 
ed  the  first  reader.  This  lecture  was  endows 
cd  with  twenty  marks  per  annum,  payable  by 
the  abbot  and  convent  of  Westminster,  whicH 
house  she  had  previously  endowed  with  reve-^ 
Hues  to  the  amount  of  ^l\..per  annum,  Fis-» 
cher  was  succeeded  in  the  professorship  by  Dr, 
Cosin,  master  of  Benet ;  he  by  William  Bur- 


FISCHER.  345 

goign,  itfterwards  master  of  Peter-house ;  and 
the  last  by  Erasmus. 

The  same  year  and  day,  lady  Margaret 
established  a  divinity-lecture  at  Oxford,  with 
the  same  salary,  and  under  the  same  regula* 
tions,  to  which  John  Roper,  S,  T.  P.  was  no* 
minated  the  first  reader. 

Ill  the  ^Oth  year  of  the  same  risign  (Oct, 
SO,)  she  established  a  perpetual  public  preach*- 
er  at  Cambridge,  with  a  salary  of  lOl.  per  an^ 
^<ii/ra,  payable  by  the  abbot  ahd  convent  of 
Westminster,  who  was  required  to  preach  at 
least  six  sermons  every  year,  at  several 
chilrches,  specified  in  the  foundation,  within 
the  dioceses  of  London,  Ely,  and  Lincoln.  Of 
this  establishment,  John  Fawn,  S.  T.  P.  was 
constituted  the  first  preacher. 

Having  done  thus  much  for  the  schools  of 
,  learning,  her  conscience  seemed  disposed  to  be 
satisfied  in  this  particular,  and  she  began  to 
think  seriously  of  providing,  agreeably  to  the 
superstition  of  the  times,  for  the  welfare  of 
her  soul,  by  causing  masses  to  be  said,  and 
i^irges  t©  be  chanted  after  her  death,  for  its 
eternal  health  and  rest.  She  therefore  intend-.  ^ 
ed  her  other  charities  for  the  relisiious  house  at 
Westminster^  where  her  son  had  projected  ^ 


346  FISCHER. 

sumptuous  chapel  for  his  own  interment,  and 
where  she  designed  that  her  own  remains 
should  be  also  deposited.  But  having  com- 
munipated  her  intentions  to  bishop  Fischer, 
the  great  director  of  her  charities,  he  repre- 
sented that  the  house  at  Westminster  was  al- 
ready wealthy  enough,  being  the  richest  in 
England;  that  the  sehools  of  learning  were 
poorly  endowed,  and  the  provisions  foi-  scho« 
Jars  very  few  and  small,  and  that  colleges  were 
yet  wanting  towards  their  maintenance;  that 
in  such  foundations  she  might  serve  two  ends 
at  once — the  support  of  learning,  and  the  en-» 
pouragement  of  virtue — and  that  hence  she 
would  double  both  her  charity  and  her  re-r 
ward. 

These  representations,  aided  by  the  habitual 
reverence  of  the  countess  for  the  opinion  of 
her  confessor,  had  the  desired  effect.  Still  she 
was  under  an  engagement  to  h^r  son,  in  re- 
spect of  their  common  designs  ^t  Westminster^ 
.  which  her  ^delicacy  l^new  not  how  to  break 
with  honour.  This  difficulty  the  good  bishop 
undertook  to  remove  also  ;  and  countenanced 
by  the  letters  of  her  ladyship,  he  negociated 
with  the  king  so  dexterously,  as  to  obtain  hi^ 
consent  for  altering  her  design,    Henry's  let-* 


r 


FISCHEE*  847 


ter  to  his  mother  for  this  purpose  is  still  ex^N 
tant ;  and  as  it  exhibits  that  prince  in  a  more 
amiable  light  than  marks  his  character  in  ge- 
lieral  history,  the  reader  will  probably  begra-» 
tified  with  its  perusal. 

A  lietterfrom  the  King  to  his  Mother^ 

Ex  Archivis  Coll,  Jo, 

Madam,  my  most  entirely  well  beloved  lady  and 
mother, 
I  recommend  me  unto  you  in  the  most  humble 
QX\i\lauly^  wise  that  I  can,  beseeching  you  of  youf 
daily  and  continual  blessings.  By  your  confessor, 
the  bearer,  1  have  received  your  good  ^nd  most 
loviiig  writing,  and  by  the  same  have  heard  p,t  good 
leisure,  such  credence  as  he  would  shew  unto  me  on 
your  behalf,  and  thereupon  have  sped  him  in  every 
behalf  without  delay,  according  to  your  nGt)le  pe^- 
tition  and  desire,  which  resteth  in  two  principal 
points  :  the  one  for  a  general  pardon  for  all  manner 
causes ;  the  other  is  for  to  alter  and  change  part  of 
a  license  which  I  had  given  unto  you  before,  for  to  be 
put  into  mortmain  at  Westminster,  and  now  to  be 
converted  into  the  university  of  Cambridge,  for  your 
poul's  health,  &c.     All  which  things,  according  tj> 


348  7ISCH£«. 

your  desire  and  pleasure,  I  have  \\rith  all  my  heart 
and  good  will  givai  and  granted  unto  you<  And  my 
dame,  not  only  in  this,  but  in  all  other  things,  that 
I  may  know,  should  be  to  your  honour  and  pleasure, 
and  weal  of  your  salle  ^  I  shall  be  as  glad  to  please 
you  as  your  heart  can  desire  it ;  and  I  know  well 
that  I  am  as  muck  bounden  so  to  do,  as  any  creature 
living,  for  the  great  and  singular  motherly  love  and 
affection  that  it  hath  pleased  you  at  all  times  to  bear 
towards  me;  wherefore  mine  own- most  loving  mou- 
ther, in  my  most  hearty  manner,  J  thank  you,  be- 
seeching you  of  your  good  continuance  in  the  same. 

And,   madam,  your    said  confessor  hath  more*- 
pver  shewn  unto  me,  on  your  behalf,  that  ye  of  your 
goodness  and  kind  disppsition,  have  given  and  grant- 
fd  unto  me,  such  title  and  interest  as  ye  have,   or 
ought  to  have,  in  such  debts  and  duties,  which  is 
owing  and  due  unto  you  in  France,  by  the  French 
king  and   others,  wherefore,  madam,  in  my  most 
hearty  and  humble  wise,  I  thank  you.     Howbeit,  I' 
Terily  [thiijk]   it  will  be  right  hard  to  recover  it, 
without  it  be  driven  by  compulsion  and  fbrc^  rather 
than  by  any  true  justice,  which  is   not  yet,  as  we 
think,  any  convenient  time  to  be  put  in  execution. 
Nevertheless  it  hath  pleased  you  to  give  us  a  good 
interest  and  mean,  if  they  would  not  conform  them 
(o  reason  ^d  good  justice,  to  defend  or  offend  at  a 

s  sottU 


jPISCHEB.  349 

Ci^nvenient  time  when  the  case  shall  so  require 
hereafter :  lor  such  a  chance  may  fall,  that  this  poor 
grant  might  stand  in  great  stead  for  the  recovery  of 
our  rights  and  to  make  iis  free,  whereas  we  he  now 
hound.  And  verily,  madam,  an  I  might  recover 
it  at  this  time  or  any  other^  ye  he  sure  ye  should 
have  your  pleasure  therein,  as  I,  and  all  that  God 
has  given  me,  is,  and  shall  ever  [be]  at  your  will  and 
commandment,  as  I  have  instructed  master  Fischer 
more  largely  herein,  as  I  doubt  not  hut  he  will  de-* 
clare  unto  you.  And  I  beseech  you  to  send  me  your 
mind  and  pleasure  in  the  same,  which  I  shall 'be  full 
glad  to  follow,  with  God's  grace,  which  send  and  give 
unto  you  the  full  accomplishment  of  all  your  noble 
and  virtuous  desires.  Written  at  Greenwich,  the 
17th  day  of  July>  with  the  hand  of  your  most  hum-* 
hie  and  loving  son. 

H.  R. 

After  the  writing  of  this  I'ctter,^  your  confessor 
delivered  unto  me  such  letters  and  writing^  obliga* 
tiory  of  your  duties  in  France,  which  it  hath  pleased' 
you  to  send  unto  me,  which  I  have  received  by  am 
indenture  of  every  parcel  of  the  same.  Wherefore 
eftsoons  in  my  most  humble  wise  I  thank  you,  and 
purpose  hereafter  at  better  leisure,  to  know  your 
mind  and  pleasure  further  therein. 

Madam;  I  have  encumbered  you  now  with  this  my 


356  ^ISCHEtt. 

long  writings,  but  methink  that  I  can  do  no  les^ 
considering  that  it  is  so  selden  that  I  do  writer 
Wherefore,  I  beseech  you  to  pardon  me,  for  verily^ 
madam,  my  sight .  is  nothing  so  perfect  as  it  has 
deny  and  I  know  well  it  will  appair  ^  daily,  wherefore, 
I  trust  that  you  will  not  be  displeased,  though  I  write 
not  so  often  with  my  own  hand,  for  on  my  faith  I 
have  ben  three  days  or  I  could  make  an  end  of  thi» 
letter. 

To  my  Lady. 


These  proceedings  gave  birth  to  the  founda- 
tion of  Christ's  College^  Cambridge,  in  the 
year  1505-6,  to  which  Fischer  was  appointed, 
after  herself,  visitor  for  life.  The  first  master 
of  this  college,  was  John  Syclyng,  who  was  to 
shew  his  obedience  to  the  foundress's  statutes, 
(as  expressed  in  his  original  obligation,)  "  by 
not  procuring  or  causing  to  be  procured,  or  not 
using,  heing  procured,  any  dispensations  from 
the  apostolic  see ;  or  (as  much  as  in  him  was,) 
not  suffering  his  fellows  to  make  use  of  them/* 
This  instrument  bears  date  September  5th,  2^d 
of  Henry  VII. 

About  this   time   the  lady    Margaret    was 
strongly  solicited  by  some  respectable  memberf 

» impair. 


FISCHER.    V  351 

•  of  Oxford,  to  confer  her  remaining  charitiea 
upon  that  university ;  who  pointed  out  to  her 
St.  Frideswid's  priory^  (which  occupied  the 
site  of  the  present  Christ  Churchy)  as  a  proper 
field  for  her  munificent  donations.  But  bishop 
Fischer  called  her  attention  again  toCambrige ; 
and  St.  Frideswid  was  left  to  adorn  the  me- 
mory of  cardinal  Wolsey. 

The  old  house  of  St.  John,  at  Cambridge, 
presents  a  striking  instance  of  the  dissolute 
extravagance  of  some  of  the  ancient  nionaste- 
ries.  When  the  ordinary  revenues  of  this  house 
became  inadequate  to  its  prodigal  expendi- 
ture, the  moveables  were  eithet  pawned  or 
gold,  and  even  the  sacred  vessels  incurred  the 
profanation  of  being  exposed  to  sale.  These 
resources  were  soon  at  an  end.  Many  of  the 
lands  were  then  alienated,  the  rest  mortgaged, 
and  at  length,  its  funds  exhausted  and  its  credit 
iost,  the  master  and  brethren  were  obliged  to 
disperse,  and  the  house  was  abandoned.'    In 

'  this  siste  of  things  bishop  Fischer  conceived 
that  it  would  be  more  for  the  interests  of  reli- 
gion and  of  learning,  that  it  should  be  dis- 
solved by  royal  authority,  and  that  a  college 
of  secular  students  should  be  engrafted  upon 
the  dd  stock,  in  the  hope  that  it  might  prot 


S52  ftSCHElt* 

duce better  fruit.    He  succeeded  in  interesting 
his  noble  patroness   in  his   design,   and   St^ 
John's  college  was  projected ;  but  before  the 
Toyal  license  could  be  obtained  for  this  pur^ 
pose>  his  majesty  died>  and  hot  long   after 
lady  Margaret  herself.    The  execution  of  the 
design^    however,   was  left  in  the  hands  of 
trustees,  of  which  Fischer  was  the  chief  5  but 
the  institution  was  postponed  for  some  time^ 
from  various  causes.     Henry  VHL  east  am 
eye  of  cupidity  upon  the  lands  bequeathed  by 
his  grandmother  for  the  foundation ;  Stanley^ 
bishop  of  Ely,  the  diocesan,  now  opposed  the 
dissolution  of  the  old  house,  from  a  tendernes) 
and  fellow-feeling  for  the  infirmities  of  his  bre* 
thren;  it  was  nevertheless  dissolved  January  tO, 
15 10,  by  a  bull  from  Julius  H.  which  condespend* 
ed  to  notice  neither  the  authority  of  the  king^ 
nor  of  the  bishop  of  Ely.  The  chapter  was  grant- 
ed in  April  of  the  year  following,  for  the  esta-* 
blishment  of  a  college,  Unius  magistri,  sod'* 
orum  et  scholarium  ad  numerum  quinquaginta 
secularium  personarumf    vel   circa,  in  scientiis 
liberalibus,  et  sacra  theologid  itudentiam  et  ora-" 
turorum. 

The  revenues  appropriated  by  lady  Mar- 
garet's will,  for  the  maintenance  of  this  cgl- 


PIS  CHER.  353 

IcgCi  amounted  to  4001.  per  annum^'^  very  large 
sum  in  those  days.  But  the  executors  were 
soon  compelled  to  resign  all  the  lands  to  the 
rapacity  of  the  king;  and  the  society  must 
have  been  again  dissolved^  or  at  least  much 
reduced  its  establishment,  if  Fischer  had  not 
luckily  found  some  trifling  compensation  in 
the  revenues  of  a  small  dissolved  house  at 
Ospring,  in  Kent.  These  amounted^  indeed^ 
to  no  niiore  than  701.  a  year ;  but  which,  with 
a  few  other  inconsiderable  helps^  proved  suf- 
ficient, under  good  management,  to  continue 
the  college  on  its  original  plan. 

Collegians  of  the  present  day  will  wonder 
how  so  large  a  society,  consisting  chiefly  of 
fellows,  (for  at  first  there  were  few  scholars,) 
could  be  supported  upon  such  a  slender  in- 
come. But  when  they  are  told  that  only  twelve 
pence  per  week  was  allowed  in  commons  to  a 
fellow,  and  but  seven  pence  to  a  scholar ;  that 
1201.  was  efiough  to  found  a  fellowship ;  and 
that  61.  per  annum  sufficed  for  the  maintenance 
of  a  fellow— ^their  astonishment  will  cease.  Its 
revenues  were  soon  greatly  improved  by  the 
assiduous  attention  and  prudent  management 
of  Robert  Shoreton,  the  first  master.  This  college 
distinguished  itself  for  its  zeal  and  spirit  during 

VOL.  I.  A  a 


354  rrscHEK. 

tbe  reformation;  and  more  ministers  were 
ejected  from  it  than  from  any  other  society  in 
the  university— ^an  effect  very  different  from 
what  the  foundrei^  and  her  good  confessor  had 
designed  to  produce.' 

The  following  lines,  composed  probably  by 
a  monk  of  Westminster,  were  found  deposited 
among  lather  documents,  in  the  foundress's 
chest  at  St.  John's  College ;  and  as  they  con- 
tain an  accurate,  though  succinct  account  of  her 
foundations,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  give 
them  a  place  :*— 

Carmen  Phalecium  Hendecasyllabum. 

Hic  ilia  est  sita  Margareta  Gnato 
Henrico  iiiclyta  septimo,  nepot« 

rComitissa  Richmondas 
Octavo  <Comes  alta  Richmoadas 

vRiehmondiana  Rectrix. 
Censum  contulit  annuum  duobus 
Qui  docti  sophiam  sacram  explicarent 
Ille  Oxonibus,  ille  Cantabrigis ; 
His  Collegia  biiia  struxit,  ambo       ^ 
Quae  *  centum  foveant  decemq  ;  alumaos, 
Doctorem  instituit  rudi  popello, 
Qui  Christum  sine  fine  buccinetur. 

*  Sixty  at  Christ's  College,  uid  fifty  at  St.  John's. 


irtscfit.E*  355 

• 

Roynborni  sere  suo,  novam  tenellas 
Pubi,  grammatices  scholam  paravit* 
Demum*  hie  tres  monachos  alii  benigna^ 
His  ac  talibus  ilia  viva  factis^ 
Fortuuam  superavit  emimeotein*       ^ 


I  conceive  that  these  few  particulars  relative 
to  the  foundations  of  the  lady  Margaret,  are 
not  mispbced,  since  they  are  obviously  coni* 
nacted  with  the  learning  of  the  period,  aad 
with  Ae  biography  of  bishop  Fischer,  witl>» 
out  whose  wise  direction,  the  good  intentions 
of  that  lady  might  haVi^  evaporated  in  a  sel£sh 
pietyy  or  at  best  in  a  vague  benevolence. 
The  reader  may  now  judge  of  the  validity  of  his 
title  to  be  ranked  among  the  first  and  most  ac« 
ttye.  restorers  of  ancient  learning  in  Englandf » 

♦  At  Westminster. 

f  This  account  is  abstracted  from  the  preface  to  his  sermon 
kt  lady  Margaret's  funeral ;  and  which  was  compiled  by  the 
editor  from  original  documents  reposited  among  the  archives 
of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge*  The  book,  I  apprehend,  is 
scarce ;  I  met  with  it  by  accident^  after  having  searched  fw  it 
in  vain. 


Aa2 


(    »56    ) 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE, 

Chancellor  of  England^ 


SoRN  in  London  in  1480,  was  son  of  sir 
John  More,  knight^  one  of  the  Judges  of 
King's  Bench.  He  received  the  first  part 
of  his  education  at  St.  Anthony's,  Thread- 
needle-street,  and  was  afterwards  admitted 
into  the  family  of  cardinal  Morton,  arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  who  was  accustom- 
ed to  say  of  him  to  his  guests— '^  This  boy 
who  waits  at  table,  whoever  lives  to  see  it, 
will  prove  a  marvellous  man."  In  1497,  he 
entered  at  Oxford,  where  he  continued  two 
years,  and  then,  being  designed  for  the  law, 
removed  to  New  Inn,  London ;  and  soon  af- 
ter, to  Lincoln's  Inn,  of  which  his  father  was 
a  member. 

About  the  age  of  twenty,  he  becamedis- 
gusted  with  the  law,  and  shut  himself  up,  dur- 
ing four  years,  in  the  Charter-house,  devoting 


SIK  THOMAS  MOBE.  35? 

himself  exclusively  to  the  services  of  reli- 
gion. At  this  period  he  was  so  bigotted  to 
monkish  superstitions,  and  monkish  disci- 
pline,  that,  like  lady  Margaret,  he  wore  a 
hair-shirt  next  his  skin,  (which  he  is  said 
never  afterwards  to- have  wholly  laid  aside,) 
fasted  often,  and  not  unfrequently  slept  on  a 
bare  plank.  He  had  a  strong  inclination  to 
take  orders,  and  even  to  turn  Franciscan ;  but 
was  over-ruled  by  his  father,  whose  authori- 
ty was  moreover  reinforced  by  the  amorous 
propensities  of  the  son,  which  were  not  to  be 
subdued  even  by  the  austerities  of  the  cloister. 
Accordingly  he  married  Jane,  eldest  daug;hter 
of  John  Colt,  esq.  of  New-hall,  Essex.  About 
this  period,  too,  he  was  appointed  law  reader  at 
Furnival's  Inn,  which  he  held  for  three  years ; 
and  besides^  read  a  public  lecture  in  the  church 
of  St.  Laurence,  Old  Jewry,  upon  St.  Austin's 
treatise  De  Civitate  Dei. 

At  the  age  of  twp  and  twenty,  he  was  elect- 
ed  member  of  the  parliament  called  by  Henry 
yn«  in  150S,  to  demand  a  subsidy  and  nine 
fifteenths,  for  the  marriage  of  Margaret,  his 
eldest  daughter,  to  James,  king  of  Scotland. 
Mdre  opposed  this  demand  with  such  force 
of  argument,  that  it  was  finally  rejected  by  the 


$59  SIR  THOMAS  MORE. 

house.  In  1508^  he  was  made  judge  of  the 
Sheriff's  Court;  also  a  justice  of  the  peace, 
and  became  eminent  at  the  bar*  In  1516,  he 
went  to  Flanders,  in  the  retinue  of  bishop 
Tonstal  and  doctor  Knight,  who  were  sent  by 
Henry  to  renew  the  alliance  with  the  archduke 
of  Austria,  afterwards  Charles  V.  On  his  re- 
turn he  was  offered  a  pension  by  cardinid  Wol- 
Bcy,  which,  however,  he  thought  proper  to  re- 
fuse ;  though  soon  after  accepted  of  the  king, 
the  place  of  master  of  the  requests.  About 
this,  time  also  his  majesty  conferred  on  him  the 
honour  of  knighthood,  appointed  him  one  of 
his  privy  council,  and  admitted  him  to  the 
greatest  personal  familiarity.  In  ld20,'^he  was 
made  treasurer  of  the  exchequer ;  and  about 
the  same  period  built  a  house  at  Chelsea,  on 
the  banks  of  the  Thames ;  and  being  now  a 
widower,  married  a  second  wife.  In  15^3^  a 
parliament  being  summoned,  to  raise  money  for 
a  war  with  France,  he  was  elected  speaker  of 
the  house  of  commons;  and  in  this  character 
opposed,  with  great  firmness,  and  with  equal  * 
success,  an  oppressive  subsidy  demanded  by 
the  minister,  cardinal  Wolsey.  He  was  sent, 
in  1526,  with  cardinal  Wolsey  and  others,  on 
a  joint  embassy  to  France;  and  in  1528,  was 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE*  359 

made  chancellor  of  the  duchy  of  Lancaster. 
On  the  following  year,  his  majesty  appointed 
him,  together  with  Tonstal,  bishop  of  Durham, 
ambassadors,  to  negociate  a  peace  between  the 
emperor,  Henry,  and  the  king  of  France ;  and 
in  the  peace  hence  resulting,  concluded  at 
Cambray,  he  obtained  for  the  kingdom  ad- 
Tantages  so  far  beyond  what  had  been  expect- 
ed,  that  the  king,  on  the  disgrace  of  cardinal 
Wol^y,  gave  him  th^'^great  seal  on  the  25th 
of  October  of  the  same  year;  and  it  is  re- 
markable, that  he  was  the  first  layman  who  had 
jever  obtained  that  honour.  But  perceiving, 
from  the  measures  pursued  by  the  king  in  re- 
spect of  his  divorce  from  queen  Catharine, 
that  a  final  rupture  with  Rome  would  be  ine- 
vitable, and  that  himself,  from  his  office,  itnust 
be  entangled  in  the  contest,  he  resigned  the 
seal,  after  hsi,vifig  sustained  his  high  dignity 
only  two  years  and  a  half.  On  the  passing 
of  the  act  of  supremacy,  in  1534,  he  refused 
to  take  the  required  oath,  and  he  died  on  the 
block,  a  martyr  to  Catholicism,  on  the  5th  pf 
July,  1535. 

Sir  Thomas  retained  his  hilarity,  and  even 
his  habitual  facetiousness,  to  the  last;  and  made 
a  sacrifice  of  his  life  to  his  integrity,  with  all 


360  SIR  THOMAS  MORE. 

the  indifference  he  would  have  shewn  in  an 
ordinary  affair.  ^^  Nothing  is  wanting  (says 
Hume)  to  the  glory  of  this  end,  but  a  better 
cause,  more  free  from  weakness  and  siipersti-* 
tion.  But  as  the  man  followed  his  principles 
and  sense  of  duty,  however  misguided,  his  con* 
stancy  and  integrity  are  not  the  less  objects  of 
our  admiration." — ^The  following  couplet,  which 
is  attributed  to  him,  will  serve  to  indicate  the 
habitual  state  of  mind,  which  enabled  him  to 
meet  his  fate  with  a  fortitude  so  admirable : 

If  evils  com^,  then  our  fears  are  vain; 
And  if  they  do,  fear  but  augments  the  pain. 

A  large  portion  of  the  writings  of  sir  Tbo-^ 
mas  More  are  in  Latin,  of  which  a  collection 
in  folio  was  published  at  Basil,  in  1566 ;  and 
the  year  following,  at  Louvain,  Among  this 
number  is  his  Eutopiaj  his  most  celebrated 
work,  which  was  written  in  1516,  and  first 
published  at  Basil  in  ]'518;  at  least  this  is  the 
first  edition  of  which  we  have  any  account. 
From  this  book  it  appears  thaft  in  the  early 
part  of  his  life  he  was  a  free  thinker,  though 
he  was  subsequently  devoted  to  catholic  prin- 
ciples. It  was  composed  during  the  greatest 
hurry  of  his  professional  business ;  and  at  this 


SIB  THOMAS  MOBE.  SSl 

period  he  stole  time  from  his  sleep,  to  pursue 
his  studies. 

The  Eutopia  was  translated  into  several  lan^- 
guages,  and  added  greatly  to  the  fame  of  his 
talents.  A  translation  of  it  in  English  appear- 
ed in  1624,  by  Ralph  Robinson ;  and  in  l683, 
by  bishop  Burnet,  with  a  preface  concerning 
the  nature  of  translations.  ' 

The  age  of  More  was  the  age  of  disco- 
veries; and  his  Eutopia  was  taken  by  the  learn- 
ed Budaeus  and  others,  for  true  history.  They 
thought  it  expedient,  that  missionaries  should 
be  sent  out  to  convert  so .  wise  a  people  10 
Christianity. 

It  has  been  already  noticed,  in  the  preced- 
ing article,  as  a  prevalent  opinion  at  the  time> 
that  sir  Thomas  assisted  the  king  in  the  com- 
position of  bis  celebrated  book  against  Martin 
Luther,  by  which  he  obtained  the  title  of 
'^  Defender  of  the  Faith  ;"  and  it  is  certain  that 
the  king  afterwards  charged  him  with  having 
been  the  cause  of  its  being  written.  But  the 
charge  appears  to  be  ill  founded ;  though  it  is 
affirmed  on  good  authority,  that  the  book  was 
methodized  by  More.  It  was  entitled,.  Asset- 
tio  Septem  Sacramentorum,  adversus  Martinum 
Jjutherum,  ^'c^  and  published  in  1521*   Luther^ 


563  SIR  THOMAS  MORS.     ^ 

in  his  reply,  regardless  of  the  rank  of  his  royal 
antagonist,  treated  it  with  the  utmost  contempt 
and  ridicule.  This  drew  from  More  his  iJe- 
sponsio  ad  Convitia  M,  Ijutheri  congesta  in  Hen^ 
ricum  Regem  Anglic^.  Of  this  book  it  was  said, 
that  its  author  had  the  best  knack  of  any  man 
in  Europe,   at  calling  bad  names    in    good 

Latin. 

« 

His  other  Latin  works  need  not  be  particu- 
larly  mentioned.  They  consist  of— 1.  Lucubra- 
tioms,  published  at  Basil,  1563,  8vo. — 2^  Pre- 
catibnes  ex  Psalmk. — 3.  EpisL  adAcadem* 
Oxon,*-^.  Epistola,  Lond.  1642,  folio,  &c. 

The  English  writings  of  sir  Thomas  More 
are  polemical  and  historical ;  from  both  of 
which  it  will  be  proper  to  give  a  copious  ex- 
tract, as  he  is  the  first  writer  of  eminence,  sub- 
sequent to  the  revival  of  letters,  who  conde- 
scended to  give  much  attention  to  the  culture 
of  his  native  language.  To  this  he  was  proba- 
bly induced,  in  the  first  instance,  not  by  a  di- 
rect intention  of  improving  his  own  tongue. 
But  by  motives  similar  to  those  which  actuated 
WichfTe — that  he  might  give  greater  popula- 
rity to  his  peculiar  theological  opinions. 
More  was  the  redoubted  champion  of  the  ca* 
tholics. 


•m  THOMAS  MORE.  •     S63 

1,  ^'  A  Dialogue  of  sir  Thomas  More,  knight^'^ 
one  of  the  council  of  our  sovereign  lord  the 
king,  and  chancellor  of  his  duchy  of  Lancas- 
ter. Wherein  be  treated  divers  matters  ;  as  of 
the  veneration  and  worship  of  images  and 
relics,  praying  to  saints,  and  going  on  pilgrim- 
age; with  many  other  things  touching  the 
pestilent  sect  of  Luther  and  Tyndale ;  by  the 
tone  begun  in  Saxony,  and  by  the  tother 
laboured  to  be  brought  into  England ;  newly 
overseen  by  the  said  sir  Thomas  More,  chai^- 
cellor  of  England,  1530." 

This  Dialogue  is  supposed  to  take  place  be- 
tween sir  Th'omaSj  and  the  tutor  of  the  chil- 
dren of  his  friend,  who  had  dispatched  him 
to  More,  with  a  letter  of  .credence,  with  the 
express  purpose  that  they  should  discuss  in 
conversation  the  various  points  contested  be- 
tween the  Catholics  and  Lutherans., 

The  following  extract  forms  the  first  chapter 
of  the  fourth  book. 

yfhtn  we  had.  after  dinner  a  little  paused,  your 
friend  and  I  drew  ourself  aside  into  the  garden. 
And  there  sitting  down  in  an  arbour,  he  began  to 
enter  forth  into  the  matter,  saying,  that  he  had  wdl 
perceived,  that  not  in  his  country  only,  but  also  in 


3fl4  SIR  THOMAS  MOEE. 

the  university  where  he'  had  been,  there  were  that 
had  none  ill  opinion  of  Luther;  but  thought  that 
his  books  were,  by  the  clergy ^  forboden^  of  malice 
wad  evil  will,  to  the  end  that  folks  should  not  surely 
see,  and  perfectly  perceive  what  he  saith,  or  at  the 
least,  what  thing  he  meaneth  by  his  words ; — which 
will  not  appear  they  think  by  a  line  taken  out  in  the 
mi/ddi/s*  of  a  leaf,  but  by  the  diligent  consideration  of 
the  whole  matter.  Without  which  men  might  im- 
pute a  wrong  blame,  they  say,  to  the  best  writers 
that  ever  wrote  in  this  world.  But  they  think  that 
the  clergy  will  not  have  his  books  read,  because  that 
in  them  laymen  may  read  the  priests'  faults,  which 
was,  they  say,  the  very  cause  of  the  condemnation. 
For  else,  whether  he  had  written  well  or  evil,  yet 
they  say  his  books  had  been  kept  in  men's  hands  and 
read.  For  there  is,  they  think,  therein,  though 
Rome  part  were  nought,  many  things  yet  well  said ; 
whereof  there  was  no  reason  that  men  should  lege 
the  profit  for  the  bad.  And  also  reason  men  think 
it  were,  that  all  were  heard  that  can  be  said  touch* 
ing  the  truth  to  be  knowen,  concerning  the  matters 
of  our  salvation,  to  the  intent  that  all  heard  and 
perceived,  men  may,  for  their  own  surety,  the  better 
cAese  and  hold  the  right  way. 

Forsooth,,  quod  I,   if  it  were  now  doubtful  and 
ambiguous  whether  the  church  of  Christ  were  in  the 

*  forbidden,  <  midst. 


sm  THOMAS  MORE.  S$5 

K 

I 

right  rule  of  doctrine  or  not,  then  were  it  very  ne- 
cessary to  give  them  all  good  audience  that  could 
and  would  any  thing  dispute,  on  either  party,  for  it 
or  against  It,  to  the  end  that  if  we  were  now  in  a 
wrong  way,  we  might  leave  it  and  walk  in  some  better* 
But  now,  on  the  other  side,  if  it  so  be,  as  indeed  it 
is,  that  Christ's  church  hath  the  true  doctrine  al- 
ready, and  the  self  same,  that  St.  Paul  would  not 
give  an  angel  of  heaven  audience  to  the  contrary ; 
what  wisdom  were  it  now   therein  tt)  shew  ourself 
'so  mistrustful  and  wavering,  that  for  to  search  whe^ 
ther  our  faith  were  false  or  true,   we  should  give 
hearing  not  to  an  angel, of  heaven,  but  to  a  fond 
friar ;  to  an  apostate ;  to  an  open  incestuous  lecher; 
a  plain  limb  of  the  devil ;  and  a  manifest  messenger 
of   hell.      In   which  words,     if    ye    would     haply 
think  that  I  use  myself  too  sore,  to  call  him  by  such 
odious  names,  ye  must  consider  that  he  spareth  not, 
both  untruly,  and  without  necessity,  in  his  railing 
books,  to  call  by  as  evil,  them  whom  his  duty  were 
highly  to  reverence  ;  whereas  I  do,  betweVn  us  t\f  ain, 
call  hirn  but  as  himself  hath  shewed  him  in  his  writ- 
ing, in  his  living,  and  i^i  his  mad  marriage.     And 
yet  I  neither  do  it,  nor  would,  were  it  not  that  the 
matter  self  of  reason  doth  require  it.     For  my  part 
is  it,  of  necessity,  to  tell  how  nought  he  is  f  because 
that  the  worse  the  man  is,  the  more  madness  were  it 
for  wise  men  to  give  his  false  fables  hearkening, 


S66  SIR  tHOMAS  MOB£. 

against  God's  undoubted  truth,  by  his  holy  spirit 
taught  unto  his  church,. and  by  such  multitude  of 
miracles ;  by  so  much  blood  of  holy  martyrs ;  by  the 
virtuous  living  of  so  many  blessed  confessors;  by  ths 
puiity  and  cleanness  of  so  many  chaste  widows  aad 
undefouled  virgins  ;  by  the  wholsome  doctrine  of  «so 
many  holy  doctors ;  and  finally,  by  the  whole  consent 
and  agreement  of  all  Christian  people  this  fifteen  hun* 
dred  years  confirmed.  And,  therefore,  not  any  respect 
unto  his  railing  against  the  clergy  is,  as  some  would 
have  it  seem,  the  cause  of  his  condemnation  and 
'  suppression  of  his  books  :  for  the  good  men  of  Ube 
clergy  be  not  so  sore  grieved  with  them  that  touch 
the  faults  of  the  bad,  nor  the  bad  themself  be  nat 
so  tender^eared,  .that  for  the  only  talking  of  theic 
faults,  they  would  banish  the  books  that  were  good  in 
other  things  beside:  for  else  could  not  the  books  of 
many  old  holy  fathers  have  endured  so  long,  wherein 
the  vices  of  them  that  in  the  clergy  be  nought,  be 
very  vehemently  rebuked.  But  the  very  cause  why 
bis  books  be  not  suffered  to  be  read  is,  because  his 
heresies  he  so  many  and  so  abominable,  and  the 
proofs  wherewith  he  pretendeth  to  nmke  them  pro«^ 
bable,  be  so  £ar  fi*om  reason  and  truth,  and  *so  Uir 
against  tbe  ri^t  understanding  of  holy  scripture, 
whereof,  under  colour  of  great  zeal  and  a£fection,  ha 
labouretib  to  destroy  the  credence  and  good  use,  and 
4na%  so  far  stretcheth  all  thing  against  good  mail- 


SIB  THOMAS  MORE.  367 

tier  and  virtue,  i)rovoking  the  world  to  wrong  opi* 
nions  of  God,  and  boldness  in  sin  and  wretchedness, 
that  there  can  no  good,  but  much  harm,  grow  by  the 
reading.  For  if  there  were  the  substance  good,  and 
of  error  or  oversight  some  cockle  among  the  con^ 
which  might  be  sifted  out,  and  the  remnant  stand  in- 
stead, men  would  have  been  content  therewith,  as 
they  be  with  such  other.  But  now  is  his  not  be* 
sprent  with  a  few  spots,  but  with  more  than  half 
venom  poisoned  the  whole  wine,  and  that  right  rotei^ 
of  itself.  And  this  done  of  purpose  and  malice,  not 
without  an  evil  spirit  in  such  wise  walking  with  hb 

words,  that  the  contagion  thereof  were  likely  to  in* 

i' 

feet  a  feeble  soul,  as  the  savour  of  a  sickness  sore  ix^ 
fecteth  a  whole  body.  Nor  the  truth  is  not  to  be 
learned  of  every  man's  mouth :  for  as  Christ  was 
not  content  that  the  devil  should. call  him  God's 
son,  though  it  were  true,  so  is  he  not  content  a  de« 
vil's  limb,  as  Luther  is,  or  Tyndale,  should  teach  his 
flock  the  truth,  for  infecting  them  with  thieir  false  de- 
vilish heresies  besides.  For  likewise  as  the  holy  scrip- 
ture of  God,  because  of  the  good  spirit  that  made  it, 
is  of  his  own  nature  apt  to  purge  and  amend  the 
reader,  though  some  that  read  it,  of  their  invincible 
malice,  turn  it  to  their  harm ;  so  do  such  writings 
as  Luther's  is,  in  the  making  whereof  the  devil  is  of 
council,  and  giveth  therewith  a  breath  of  his  as- 
sistance, though  the  goodness  of  some  men  master 


569  SIR  THOMAS  MOtti 

the  malice  thereof,  walking  harmless  with  Gotfi§ 
help,  as  the  prophet  saith,  upon  the  serpent  and  the 
cockatrice^  and  treading  upon  the  lion  and  the  dm-^ 
gon  ;•  yet  be  such  works  of  themselves  always  right 
imwholsome  to  meddle  with,  mete  and  apt  to  corrupt 
and  infect  the  reader.  For  the  proof  whereof  we  need 
none  other  example  than  this  that  we  be  in  hand 
with  all,  if  we  consider  what  good  the  reading  of  his 
books  hath  done  in  Saxony.  And  thi;5  find  we  more 
than  too  much  proved  here  among  us,  that  of  teri 
that  use  to  read  his  books,  ye  shall  scantly  find 
twain  but  that  they  not  only  cast  off*  prayer  and  fast* 
ing,  and  all  such  godly  virtues  as  holy  scripture 
commendeth,  and  the  church  commandeth,  and  vir-» 
tuous  people  have,  ever  had  in  great  price,  but  also 
fall  in  plain  contempt  and  hatred  thereof.  So  that 
what  fruit  should  grow  of  the  reading,  ye  may  soon 
guess. 


In  the  third  chapter  of  the  same  book,  the 
author  canvasses  the  motives  of  Luther. 

Now  that  is  somewhat  worth  to  consider,  how 
ibis  lewd  friar  began  to  fall  in  the  mischievous  mat* 
ters.  We  shall  understand  that  there  was  a  pardon, 
as  the  manner  is  there,  Luther  was  the  preacher, 
and  preaehed  to  the  people^  exhorting  them  thereto^ 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE*  369 

and  avancing  the  authority  thereof  all  that  he 
possible  might,  not  without  his  great  advantage 
therefore.  So  happed  it,  that  soon  after  that  the 
setting  forth  of  the  pardon  with  the  advantage 
therieof  was  t^en  from  him  and  set  to  another. 
For  ang^r  whereof  he  fell  into  such  a  fury,  that  forth- 
with he  began  to  write  against  all  pardons.  How- 
b^it,  because  the  matter  was  new  and  strange,  he 
began  first  by  way  of  doubts  and  questions  only,  sub- 
mitting himself  and  his  writing  to  the  judgment  of 
the  pope,  and  desiring  to  be  enformed  of  the  truth. 
Whereupon,  when  he  was  by  writing  answered  by  the 
master  of  the  pope's  palace,  then  waxed  he  more  xvood^, 
and  fell  to  railing  against  him,  and  made  also  another 
book  against  the  power  of  the  pope,  affirming,  that  his 
power  upon  the  church  was  never  institute  of  God, 
but  ordained  only  by  the  common  consent  of  Christian 
people,  for  avoiding  of  schisms.  But  yet  he  said 
that  all  Christian  men  Avere  bounden  to  stand  and 
obey  thereunto,  and  that  the  fiohemes  were  damna- 
ble heretics  for  doing  the  contrary.  But  soon  after, 
when  he  was  in  such  wise  answered  by  good  and 
cunning  men,  that  he  perceiyed  himself  unable  to 
defend  that  he  had  affirmed,  then  fell  he  from  reason-* 
ing  to  railing,  and  utterly  denied  that  he  had  before 
affirmed.    A^^^  ^^^^  began  to  write  that  the  pope 

1  wrath. 

VOL.  f.  B  b 


370  3IR  THOMAS  MORE. 

I 

had  no  power  at  ally  neither  by  G^d  nor  man.  And 
that  the  Bohemes,  whom  he  had  in  his  writings  be* 
lore  called  damnable  heretics,  were  good  christians,  and 
all  their  opinions  good  and  catholic.  Then  when  he 
was  cited  by  the  pope's  holiness  to  appear,  he  ap« 
pealed  to  the  next  general  council,  which  should  be 
gathered  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  So  that  whatsoever 
general  council  were  after  assembled,  he  might  jest  and 
rail  thereon,  and  say  that  was  not  that  that  he  appeal-? 
cd  unto :  for  that  was  not  assembled  in  the  Holy  Ghost. 

He  took,  (quod  your  friend,)  a  good  wily  way. 

As  wily  as  it  was,  (quod  I,)  yet  would  he  not 
stand  thereby,  but  fied  from  that  to  another.  Now 
shall  ye  understand,  that  yet  soon  after  this,  in  the 
book  be  which  he  net  answereth,  but  raileth  against 
that  book  wherein  our  sovereign  lord  the  king,  like 
a  most  faithful,  virtuous,  and  most  erudite  prince,  evi- 
dently and  effectually  revinced  and  confuted  the  most 
venomous  and  pestilent  book  of  Luther,  entitled.  The 
Captivity  of  Babylon,  in  which  he  laboured  to  de- 
stroy the  holy  sacraments  of  Christ's  church.  In 
tiiatboek,  1  say,  Luther,  which  had  before  appealed  to 
'  the  next  general  council,  utterly  denieth  the  autho* 
«rity  of  all  general  councils,  Imd  setteth  them^all  at 
no  weight. 

By  my  troth,  (quod  your  friend,)  either  was  the  man. 
very  negligent  before,  or  very  naught  after,  when  he 
changeth  so  often,  andwriteth  ever  thelonger  the  moret 


^ilt  tHOMAS  ItfOHB^  3?1 

coHtratyiliotto  his  adyersary  oidy,  but  also  to  bimseif* 
But  I  pray  you  bow  excusetb  be  bis  inconstancy  ? 

Marry^  (qttod  ,I)be  saitb,  tbat  be  seetb  farther  than 
he  saw  before*  Wbereunto  the  king^s  grace  sheweth 
him  tbat  it  were  unlikely  tbat  be  should  see  better 
through  a  pair  of  evil  spectacles  of  ire  and  envy. 

Very  true,  (quod  your  friend,)  by  my  troth.  But 
yet  I  hear  say  tbat  be  bath  offered  to  stand  at  the 
judgment  of  learned  men  in  all  his  matters,  if  his  of- 
fer had  ben  taken  in  time. 

Indeed^  (quod  I^)  once  he  promised  to  stand  to  the 
judgment  of  the  university  of  Paris,  and  thereupon 
was  there  open  disputations  kept,  and  the  very 
words  written  by  notaries  sworn  for  both  the  parties* 
But  when  bis  opinions  were  after,  at  Paris,  by  the 
university  condemned,  then 'he  refused  to  stand  to 
their  judgment,  and  fell  again  to  his  old  craft  of  rail- 
ing. He  appeared  also  at  Worms,  before  the  em-» 
peror  and  the  princes  of  the  empire,  by  a  safe  con-' 
duct.  And  there  recognised  and  knowledged,  as  well 
l^e  said  pestilent  book  written  against  the  sacra-» 
meats,  as  many  other  of  like  sort  to  be  bis  own,  and 
offered  to  abide  by  them*  ^Which  he  might  boldly 
do,  being  by  the  safe  conduct  in  good  surety  of , him-* 
self  tbat  be  could  take  none  harm.  Then  was  bet 
moved  to  disputatious  upon  .the  articles,  so  that  ,he 
should  agree  upon  some  persons  virtuous  and  well 
learned,  tbat  should  be  judges  of  that  disputations, 


372  ^itL  THOMAS  MOiit^ 

and  that  he  should  be  content  to  stand  to  their  jtidg- 
ment  itpon  the  same.  Whereupon  he  agreed  [to 
come  to  disputations,  but  he  would  in  no  wise  agree 
to  maJ^e  any  men  living  judges  upon  that,  nor  stand  to 
no  man's  judgment  earthly. 

This  dialogue  of  the  worship  of  images,  &c. 
was  replied  to  byTyndale ;  which  called  forth— 
2.  sir  Thomas's  "  Confutation  of  Tyndale's  An- 
swer;" Lond.  1533,  folio. — ^These  treatises  are 
pervaded  with  all  the  absurdities  of  Catho- 
licism. 

3.  In  this  list  ought  also  to  be  enumerated^ 
his  ''  Dialogue  on  Tribulation." 


But  the  English  work  to  which  alone  poste- 
rity is  indebted  to  him;  is  his  *^  History  of  Ed- 
ward V.  and  his  Brother,  and  of  Richard 
III."— This  work  was  begun  before  he  had 
finished  his  Eutopiuy  but  was  never  completed. 
According  to  Grafton,  it  was  written  in  1508- 

The  preceding  extract  is  remarkable  chiefly 
i'.iis  affording  an  example  of  the  fermentation  of 
religious  opinion  which  distinguished  the  age; 
the  following  may  be  regarded  as  a  fair  spe- 
cimen of  stile^  and  of  the  state  of  the  language, 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE.  3/3 

in  addition  to  the  interest  of  the  narrative 
itself. 


Description  of  the  Person  and  Character  of 
Richard  the  Third* 

Richard,  the  third  son,  of  whom  we  now  entreat, 
was  in  wit  and  courage  egal^  with,  either  of  them,  in 
body  and  prowess,  far  under  them  both;  little  of 
stature,  ill-featured  of  limbs,  crook-backed,;  his 
left  shoulder  much  higher  than  his  right,  haid-^fa- 
voured  of  visage,  as  st^ch  as  iu  stages  called  ^xvarli/ej  in 
other  men  otherwise.  He  was  majicious,  .wrathful, 
envious,  and  from  afore,  his  births  ever  fro  ward.  It 
is  for  truth  reported,  that  the  duc^iesis  his  mother 
had  so  much  ado  in  her  travail,  that  she  could  not 
be  delivered  of  him  uncut ;  and  that  he  came  into 
the  world  with  the  feet  forward,  as  men  be  borne 
outward;  and  (as  thd  fame  runneth)  also  not  un- 
toothed ;  (whether  men  of  hatred  report  above  the 
truth,  or  else  that  nature  changed  her  course  in  his 
beginning,  which,  in  the  course  of  his  life,  many 
things  unnaturally  committed.) 

None  evil  captain  was  he  in  the  war,  as  to  which 
his  disposition  was  more  meetly  than  for  peace. 
Sundry  victories  had  he,  and  sometime  overthrows  j 


374  SIR  thomas'mors. 

but  never  in  default  for  his  own  person,  either  of 
hardiness  or  politic  order.  Free  was  he  called  of 
dispense,  and  somewhat  above  his  power  liberal. 
With  large  gifts  he  get  him  unsteadfast  friendship, 
for  which  he  was  fain  to  pil  and  spoil  ih  other 
places,  and  get  him  stedfast  hatred.  He  was  close 
and  secret ;  a  deep  dissimuler,  lowly  of  countenance, 
lUTOgant  of  heart ;  outwanfly  couimpinable  where  he 
inwardly  hated,  not  letting  to  kiss  whom  he  thought 
to  kiU;  ^ispitious  and  cruel,  not  for  evil  will  alway ; 
but  aller  fdr  ambition,  and  either  for  the  surety  find 
increase  of  his  estate.  Friend  and  foe  was  much 
what  indifierent,  where  his  advantage'  grew;  he 
spared  no  man's  death  whose  life  withstood  his  pur-^ 
pose.  He  slew  with  his  own  hands  king  Henry  Vi, 
being  prisoner  in  the  Tower. 


CiP 


It  will  be  tecoUected  that  the  earl  of  Rivers, 
uncle  and  guardian  of  the  young  king,  had 
been  arrested  by  orders  from  the  duke  of  Glo- 
cestei:;  and  that  the  queen,  alarmed  at  this 
act  of  violence  in  the  protector,  had  fled  to  the 
ssffictuary  of  Westminster,  with  the  five 
|>i:incesses,  and  the  duke  of  York,  Richard 
resolving,  as  the  first  step  to  his  usurpation,  to 
get  hoth  the  young  princes  into  his  bands^ 


*^*^ 


SIB  THOMAS  MOBE«  87i» 

dispatched  the  two  archbishops^  cardinal  Bour^ 
chier,  the  primate,  and  Rotherham^  arch- 
bishop of  York,  to  the  queen,  to  prevail  upon 
her,  if  possible,  without  violence,  to  accede  to 
his  proposals.  These  prelates  being  men  of 
integrity  and  honour,  were  the  dupes  of  Glo- 
cester's  artifice;  and  undertook  the  commis- 
sion in  the  full  persuasion  of  the  good  inten- 
tions of  their  eo^plbyer.  The  foUowing  is  an 
account  of  their  interview  with  the  queeii> 
which  possesses  considerable  interest.  The 
cardinal,^  having  delivered  hismessage'— 

My  lord,  (quod  the  queen,)  I  say  not  nay;  but 
that  it  were  very  convenient  that  this  gentlemai^ 
whom  ye  require, '  were  in  the  company  ai  the  king^ 
his  brother.  And  in  good  faith,  me  thinketh,  it 
were  as  great  commodify  to  them  sl^  for  yet  awhile 
to  ben  in  the  custody  of  their  mother,  the  tender  agt 
considered  of  the  eld^  of  them  both ;  but  special  the 
younger,  which,  besides  his  infancy,  that  also  need- 
eth  good  looking  to,  hath  awhik  been  so  sore  dis- 
eased, vexed  with  sickness,  and  is  so  newly  rather  a 
little  amended  than  well  recovered,  that  I  dare  put  ne 
person  earthly  in  trust  with  his  keeping  but  myself 
only ;  considering  that  there  is,  as  physiciiins  say, 
and  as  we  also  find,  double  the  peril  in  the  rccidiv»- 
tion,  that  was  in  the  first  sickness,  with  which 


3^6  SIR  THOMAS  MORE. 

disease  nature  being  forlaboured,  forwearied,  and 
vreaked,  waxeth  the  less  able  to  bear  out  a  new  sur- 
fcit.  And  albeit,  there  might  be  founden  other  that 
would  haply  do  their  best  unto  him;  yet  is  there 
none  that  either  knoweth  better  how  to  order  him 
than  I  that  so  long  have  kept  him ;  or  is  more  ten- 
derly  like  to  cherish  him  than  his  own  mother  that 
bare  him.       ^ 

The  primate,  among  other  things,  then  ob- 
serving that  it  was  inexpedient  the  child  should 
be  always  with  his  mother ;  and  that  herself 
was  well  content  that  the  young  king  should  be 
removed  to  Wales-r- 

Kot  very  content,  (quod  the  queen,)  and  yet  the 
case  is  not  like  :  for  the  tone  was.  then  in  health,  and 
the  tother.  is  now.  sick.  In  which  case,  1  mlirvel 
greatly  that  my  lord  protector  is  so  desirous  to  have 
him  in  his  keeping,  where  if  the  child  in  his  sick* 
ncss  miscarried  by  nature,  yet  might  he  run  iiito 
slander  and  suspicion,  or  fraud.  And  where  they 
call  4t  a  thing  so  sore  against  my  child's  honour  and 
theirs  also,  that  he  bideth  in  this  place;  it  is  all 
their  honours  there  to  suffer;;  him  bide  where  no  man 
doubteth  he  shall  be  best  kept,  And  that  is  here, 
while  I  am  here,  which  as  yet  intend  not  to  come 
forth,  andj't(6izr(fe^  myself  after  other  of  my  friends  2 

^  endanger,  put  in  jeojpardy., 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE.  377 

v^hich,  would  God!  were  rather  here  in  surety  with 
me,  than  I  were  there  mjuhardy  with  them. 

Why,  madam,  (quod  another  lord,)  know  you  any 
thing  why  they  should  be  mjubardy  ? 

Nay,  verily,  sir,  (quod  she,)  nor  why  they  should 
be  in  prison  neither,  as  they  now  be.  But  it  is,  I 
trow,  no  great  marvel,  tho'  I  fear,  lest  those  that 
have  not  letted^  to  put  them  in  duresse*  without  co- 
lour, will  let  as  little  to  procure  their  destruction 
without  cause. 

Tlie  cardinal  made  a  continuance  to  the  tother 
lord,  that  lie  should  harp  no  more  upon  that  string. 
And  then,  said  he  to  the  queen,  that  be  nothing 
doubted  but  that  those  lords  of  her  honourable  kin, 
which  as  yet  remained  under  arrest,  should,  upon 
the  matter  examined,  do  well  enough.  And  as 
toward  her  noble  person,  neither  was  nor  could  be 
any  ma.nnerjubardy. 

Whereby  should  I  trust  that  (quod  the  queen,) 
in  that  I  am  guiltless  ?  As  tho'  they  were  guilty—- 
in  that  I  am  with  their  enemies  better  beloved  than 
they  ?  when  they  hate  them  for  my  sake— in  that 
I  am  so  near  of  kin  to  the  king  ?  and  how  far  be  they 
off,  if  that  would  help,  ds  God  send  grace  it  hurt 
not.  And,  therefore,  as  for  me,  I  purpose  not  as 
yet  to  depart  hence.  And  as  for  this  gentlemaHj, 
iny  son,  I  mind  that  he  shall  be  where  I  am,  till  \ 


378  SIR  THOMAS  MORE. 

see  further :  for  I  assure  you,  for  that  I  sec  some 
men  so  greedy,  without  any  substantial  cause,  to 
have  him,  this  maketh  me  much  the  more  prefer  ■  to 
deliver  him. 

Truly,  madaoi,  (quod  he,)  and  the  farder  that  you 
be  to  deliver  him,  the  farder  ben  other  men  to  suffer 
you  to  keep  him,  lest  your  causeless  fear  might  cause 
you  farther  to  convey  him.  And  many  be  there 
that  think  that  he  can  have  no  privilege  in  thi^ 
place,  which  neither  can  have  will  to  ask  it,  nor 
malice  to  deserve  it..  And  therefore  they  reckon  no 
privilege  broken,  tho'  they  fetch  him  out;  which  if 
ye  finally  refuse  to  deliver  him,  I  verily  believe  they 
will.  So  much  dread  hath  my  lord,  his  uncle,  for 
the  tender  love  he  beareth  him,  lest  your  grace 
should  hap  to  send  him  away. 

Ah  sir !  (quod  the  queen,)  hath  the  protector  so 
tender  zeal  to  him,  that  he  >  feareth  nothing  lest  he 
should  escape  him !  Thinkjeth  he  that  I  would  send 
him  hence,  which  neither  is  in  the  plight  to  send 
out?  And  in  what  place  could  I  reckon  him  sure,  if 
he  be  not  sure  in  this  sentuary,  wheijeof  was  there 
never  tyrant  yet  so  devilish,  that  durst  presume  to 
bre^ ;  and  I  trust  God,  as  strong  now^to  withstand 
his  adversaries,  as  ever  he  was.  But  my  son  can  de- 
serve no  sentuary^  ^nd  therefore  he  cannot  have^  it. 
Forsooth>  he  hath  founden  a  goodly  glosc*  by  which 

I  more  loth.  «glo6s. 


«    SIR  THOMAS  MORE.  379 

that  place  that  may  defend  a  thief,  may  not  save  an 
innocent.  But  he  is  in  no  jubard^,  nor  hath  no  need 
thereof.  Would  God  he -had  not!  Troweth  the 
IMTOtector,  (I  pray  God  he  may  prove  a  protector,) 
troweth  he  that  I  perceive  not  whereunto  his  painted 
process  draweth?  It  is  not  honourable  that  the 
duke  bide  here.  It  were  comfortable  for  them  both, 
that  he  were  with  his  brother,  because  the  king 
lacketh  a  playfellow,  be  ye  sure.  I  pray  God  send 
them  both  better  playfellows  than  him,  that  maketh 
so  high  a  matter  upon  such  a  trifling  pretext :  as 
tho'  there  could  none  be  found  to  play  with  the 
king,  but  if  his  brother,  that  hath  no  lust^  to  play  for 
sickness,  come  out  "of  sentuary^  out  of  his  safe- 
guard to  play  with  him.  As  tho*  princes,  as  young  as 
they  be,  could  not  play  but  with  their  peers,  or  children 
could  not  play  but  with  their  kindred,  with  whom  for 
the  more  part  they  agree  much  worse  than  with  stran- 
gers. But  the  child  cannot  require  the  privilege;  who 
told  him  so  ?     He  shall  here  him  ask  it  an  he  will. 

Howbeit  this  is  a  gcrj/*  matter.  Suppose  he  could 
not  ask  it,  suppose  he  would  not  ask  it,  suppose  he 
would  ask  to  go  out;  if  I  say  he  shall  not;  if  I 
ask^  the  privilege  but  for  myself,  I  say,  he  that 
against  my  will  taketh  out  him,  breakcth  the  sen-- 
tuary,  Serveth  this  liberty  for  my  person  only,  or 
for   my   goods  too?    Ye  may  not  hence  take  my 

'desire.  •  light.     * 


S30  SIR  THOMAS  MORE. 

horse  fro  me.  He  is  also  my  ward :  for  as  my 
learned  council  sheweth  me,  syth  he  hath  nothing  by 
descent  holden  by  knight's  service,  the  law  maketh 
bis  mother  his  gardaine '.  Then  may  no  man,  I  sup- 
pose, take  my  ward /ro  me  out  of  sentuaryy  with- 
out the  breach  of  the  sentuary.  And  if  my  privi- 
lege could  not  serve  him,  nor  he  ask  it  for  himself, 
yet  si/th  the  law  committeth  to  me  the  custody  of 
him,  I  may  require  it  for  him ;  except  the  law  give 
a  child  a  guardian  only  for  his  goods  and  his  lands, 
discharging  hini  of  the  cure  and  safe  keeping  of  his 
body,  for  which  only  both  lands  and  goods  serve. 
And  if  ej^anaples  be  sufficient  to  obtain  privilege  for 
my  child,  I  need  not  far  to  seek.  For  in  this  place 
in  which  we  now  be,  (and  which  is  now  in  question 
whether  my  child  may  take  benefit  of  it,)  mine  other 
son,  now  king,  was  born,  and  kept  in  his  cradle,  and 
preserved  to  a  jnore  prosperous  fortune,,  which  I 
pray  God  long  to  continue.  And  as  all  you  know, 
this  is  not  the  first  time  that  I  have  taken  senftmnji : 
for  when  my  lord,  my  husband,  was  banished,  and 
thrust  out  of  his  kingdom,  1  fled  hither,  being  great 
with  child,  and  h*ere  I  bare  the  prince;  And  when 
my  lord,  my  husband,  returned  safe  again,  and  had 
the  victory,  then  went!  hence  to  welcome  him 
home;  and.  from  hence  I  brought  my  babe,  the 
prince,  unto  his  father,  when  he  first  took  him  in 

*|;uardiaii, 


'slR  THOMAS  MORE.  381 

his  amis.  And  I  pray  God  that  my  son's  palace 
may  be  as  great  safeguard  to  him  now  reigning,  as 
this  place  was  some  time  to  the  king's  enemy.  In 
which  place  I  intend  to  keep  his  brother  «M,  &c. 

Wherefore,  here  intend  I  to  keep  him,  since  man's 
law  serve th  the  guardian  to  keep  the  infailt.  The 
law  of  nature  will  the  mother  keep  her  child.  God's 
law  privilegeth  the  sentuary,  and  the  sentuary  my 
son,  sith  I  fear  to  put  him  in  the  protector's  hands, 
that  hath  his  brother  already,  and  were,  if  both 
failed,  inheritor  to  the  crowns.  The  cause  of  my 
fear  hath  no  man  to  do  to  examine.  And  yet  fear  I 
no  farther  them  that  law  feareth,  which  as  learned 
men  tell  me,  forbiddeth  every  man  the  custody  of 
them  by  whose  death  he  may  inherit  less  land  than 
a  kingdom.  I  can  no  more;  but  whosoever  he  be 
tliat  breaketh  this  holy  sentuary,  I  pray  God  shortly 
send  him  need  of  sentuary,  when  he  may  not  come 
to  it:  for  taken  out  of  sentuary  would  I  not  my 
mortal  enemy  were. 

The  cardinal  perceiving  the  emotion  of  the 
queen,  and  the  little  progress  he  made  with 
her,  was  desirous  of  putting  an  end  to  the 
conference  ;  and  assured  her,  as  his  final  con- 
clusion, that  if  she  would  consent  to  deliver  the 
duke  to  him  and  the  other  lords  then  present, 
he  ''  durst  lay  his  own  body  and  soul  both  in 


38€l  SIH  THOMAS  MORE4 

pledge,  not  only  for  his  surety,  but  also  for  hia» 
estate."  The  queen  now  finding  the  protector 
himself  at  hand,  conceiving  resistance  fruitless^ 
and  not  doubting  the  faith  of  the  cardinal^ 
nor  that  of  some  other  of  the  attendant  lord^, 
at  length,  taking  the  young  duke  by  the  hand— 

My  lord,  (quod  she,)  and  all  my  lords,  I  neither 
am  so  unwise  to  mistrust  your  wits,  nor  so  suspi- 
cious to  mistrust  your  truths.  Of  which  thing  I 
purpose  to-  make  you  such  a  proof,  as  if  cither  of 
both  lacked  in  you,  might  turn  both  me  to  great  sor* 
row,  the  realm  to  much  harm,  and  you  to  great  re- 
proach. For  lo !  here  is  (quod  she,)  this  gentleman, 
whom  I  doubt  not  I  could  here  keep  safe,  if  I  would, 
whatsoever  any  m^-n  say.  And  I  doubt  not  also, 
that  there  be  some  abroad  so  deadly  enemies  unto 
my  blood,  that  if  they  wist  where  any  of  it  lay 
in  their  own  body,  they  would  let  it  out.  We  have 
also  had  experience  that  the  desire  of  a  kingdom 
knoweth  no  kindred.  The  brother  h^ith  been  the 
brother's  bane.  And  may  the  nephews  be  sure  of 
their  uncle?  Each  of  these  children  is  others  de- 
fence while  they  be  asunder,  and  each  of  their  lives 
lieth  in  the  other's  body.  Keep  one  safe,  and  both 
be  sure ;  and  nothing  for  them  both  niore  perilous, 
than  to  be  both  in  one  place.  For  what  wise  mer- 
chant ventureth  all  his  goods  in  one  ship?    All  thi9 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE.  SBS 

notwithstanding,  liere  I  deliver  him,  and  his  brother 
in  him,  to  keep  into  your  hands,  of  whom  I  shall  ask 
them  both  afore  God  and  the  world.  Faithful  ye  be, 
that  wot  1  well ;  and  I  know  well  you  be  wise* 
Power  and  strength  to  keep  him,  if  ye  list,  neither 
lack  ye  of  yourself,  nor  can  lack  help  in  their  cause. 
And  if  ye  cannot  elsewhere,  then  may  you  leave  him. 
here.  But  only  one  thing  I  beseech  you,  for  the 
trust  that  his  father  put  in  you  ever,  and  for  the 
trust  that  I  put  in  you  now,  that  as  far  as  ye  think 
that  I  fear  too  much,  be  you  well  ware  that  you  fear 
not  as  far  too  little..  And  therewithal,  she  said  unto 
the  child  :  Farewell  my  own  sweet  son ;  God  send 
you  good  keeping  ;  let  me  kiss  you  once  yet  ere  you 
go:  for  God  knoweth  when  we  shall  kiss  together 
again.  And  therewith  she  kissed  him,  and  blessed 
him  ;  turned  her  back  and  wept,  and  went  her  way, 
leaving  the  child  weeping  as  fast. 


This  history,  though  first  published  in  Eng- 
lish, afterwards  appeared  in  Latin,  the  lan- 
guage in  which  it  is  supposed  to  have  been 
first  composed.  The  English  copy  is  inserted 
in  Hall,  Grafton,  Holinshed,  and  Stow ;  that 
in  the  Complete  History  of  England,  by  Ken- 
net,  is  (as  observed  by  Laing,)  ^*  a  licentious  an4 


1 1 


384  SIR  THOMAS  MORS. 

faulty  paraphrase  by  himself  or  Strype,  which 
has  with  most  authors  superseded  the  original." 
Hume,  in  note  [M]  to  the  third  volume  of 
his  history,  where  he  discusses  the  question  of 
Perkin  Warbeck's  imposture,  has  occasion  to 
speak  of  sir  Thomas  More,  who  is  the  principal 
V  authority.     He   says,  "  Though  the  circum- 
stances of  the  wars  between  the  two  Roses  be, 
in  general,  involved  in  great  obscurity,  yet' is 
there  a  most  luminous  ray  thrown  on  all  the 
transactions,  during  the  usurpation  of  Rich- 
ard, and  the  murder  of  the  two  young  princes^ 
by  the  narrative  of  sir  Thomas  More,  whose 
singular  magnanimity,  probity,  and  judgment, 
make  him  an  evidence  beyond  all  exception ! 
No   historian,  either  of  ancient    or  modern 
times,  can   possibly  have  more  weight.     He 
may  also  be  justly  esteemed  a  contemporary 
with  regard  to  the  murder  of  the  two  princes ; 
for  though  he  was  but  five  years  of  age  when 
that  event  happened,  he  lived  and  was  edu- 
cated among  the  chief  actors  during  the  pe- 
riod of  Richard :  and  it  is  plain,  from  his  nar- 
rative itself,  which  is  often  extremely  circum- 
stantial, that  h6  had  the  particulars  from  the 
eye  witnesses  themselves.  His  authority  there- 
fore is   irresistible,  and  sufficient  to  overba- 


»  . 


filR  THOMAS  MORE.  385 

lance  a  hundred  little  doubts  and  scruples  and 
bbjections.  For  in  reality,  his  narrative  is  li- 
able to  no  solid  objection,  nor  is  there  any 
mistake  detected  in  it."  We  may  add,  that  it 
has  been  followed  and  almost  transcribed  by 
every  subsequent  compiler. 

Notwithstanding  these  confident  assertions 
of  Hume,  the  question  of  the  authenticity  of 
sir  Thomas's  narrative,  has  given  rise  to  much 
controversy.  The  first  who  ventured  to  dis- 
pute the  account  of  Richard's  usurpation, 
&c.  which  had  been  so  long  received  as  ge- 
nuine history,  was  Buck,  in  his  '^  Life  and 
Reign  of  Richard  III*"  in  which  he  not  only 
asserts  the  innocence  of  that  prince,  but  ev^li 
denies  the  extre^ie  deformity  of  person,  with 
which  he  haAhitherto  been  described.  But  as 
the  establishment  of  this  historic  point  ne-^ 
cessarily  invalidated  the  title  of  the  reigning 
family*,  it's    right  of   inheritance    deriving 

/ 

*  Buck  lived  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  to  whom  he  was  one  of 
the  gentlemen  of  the  privy  chamber ;  he  was  also  knighted  by 
that  prince,  and  appointed  master  of  the  revels.  He  wrote 
likewise,  2.  "  The  Third  University  of  England  ;  or,  a  Treatise 
of  the  Foundation  of -all  the  Colleges,  ancient  Schools  of  Privi- 
lege, and  of  Houses  of  Learning  and  liberal  Arts,  within  and 

VOL.  I.  CC 


SSQ  9ta  THOMAS  MOEE« 

from  Henry  Vll.'s  daughter,  he  felt  himself 
under  the  necessity  of  finding  a  new  title  for 
James,  in  his  descent  from  the  Saxon  mo* 
narchs — from  Margaret,  the  sister  of  Edgar 
Atheling,  married  to  Malcolm  Canmore. 

The  same  view  of  this  dark  period  has  been 
taken  by  Carte,  in  his  History  of  England ;  and 
by  Horace  Walpole,  in  his  ^'  Historic  Doubts," 
who  has  illustrated  it  with  new  arguments. 
More  recently,  Mr.  Laing  has  examined  the 
subject  with  a  minuteness  and  accuracy  which 
so  peculiarly  distinguish  all  the  historical 
researches  of  that  gentleman*: 

The  object  of  the  present  work  precludes  long 
discussions  of  this  nature;  but  baring  given 
place  tor  the  passage  from  Hume,  which  ex- 
presses the  common  opinion,  it  were  unjust 
to  the  reader  not  to  'exhibit  also  the  general 
inferences  of  Mr*  Laing.  He  begins  with  ob- 
serving, that  the  controversy  resolves  into  four 
general  divisions;  1.  The  crimes  attributed  to 

about  the  most  famous  City  of  London,  with  a  brief  Report  of 
the  Sciences,  Arts,  and  Faculties  therein  professed,  studied,  and 
practiced."*-^.  Also,  a  Treatise  of  the  Art  of  Revels. 

*  See  Appendlxno  th,e  I2th  VoL  of  Henry*s  History  of  £a|^ 
iand;  IxHid«l799. 


isiB  THOMAlS  MORE;  S87 

Richard's  youth ;  ?.  His  tisurpation,  or  ac*^ 
quisiiion  of  the  crown  ;  3.  The  fate  of  his  ne- 
phews ;  4.  The  pretei^ions  and  character  of 
Perkirl  Warbeck  :-^relative  to  all  which  points^ 
he  concludes  respectively ;  1.  That  an  impar- 
tial historian  must  exculpate  Richard  from  the 
crimes  of  his  early  youth — the  murder  of 
Henry  YI. — of  his  son,  prince  Edward^  and 
perhaps  of  Clarence ;  2,  That  instead  of  a  per- 
jured traitor,  we  recognise  the  legitimate  so- 
vereign of  England ;  3.  That  the  account  of 
the  murder  of  the  young  prindes  is  false ;  4; 
And  that  Perkin  Warbeick  was  a  genuine  Plan- 
tagenet— the  real  duke  of  York — not  an  impos- 
tor, according  to  received  history. 

In  this  able  disquisition,  the  source  is  de- 
tected whence  More  derived  his  spurious  do- 
cuftients.  It  has  been  commonly  supposed  thaf 
sir  Thomas's  information  was  traditionary—-- 
gleaned  from  his  intercourse  with  Richard^s 
cotemporaries.  But  Mr.  Laing  observes,  "  that 
a  tradition  recorded  by  Harrington  (1596,) 
assigns  his  history  to  Morton,  (Matlone's 
Shakespearef  vol  b^  p.  562,)  and  a  Latiw  his^ 
tory  of  Richard,  composed  bynhat  prelate, 
was  preserved  in  the  last  century,  by  Roper>  it 
descendejlt  of  Mor€f,  t6  whom,  as  a  favourite 

ccS 


583  StR  THOMAS  MORE, 

pupil*,  the  book  had  devolved.    (Buck  apiti 
Kennet,  546.)  That  such  was  the  source  of  \i\% 
informatiofti,  the  substratum  on  which  he  con- 
srructed  his  history,  is  farther  confirmed  by  the 
English  edition ;  which  extending  beyond  the 
period  of  Richard's  accession,  comprehends  the 
murder  of  his  nephews,  the  secret  disaffection 
of  Buckingham,  and  terminates  abruptly  in  the 
midst  of  an  interesting  conversation  between 
the  latter  and  Morton.    The  conversation  is 
resumed  and  continued  by  Hall  and  Grafton^ 
in  a  manner  equally  minute  and  circumstan- 
tial, nor  apparently  less  authentic ;  and  as  the 
particulars  could  only  be  obtained  from  Mor- 
ton, I  conclude  that  they  and  More  had  access 
to  the  same  original  information,  and  attribute 
the  materials   of  the  history  in   question  to 
Morton ;  the  ornamental  and  classical  varnish 
to  More.  This  discovery  may  exculpate  More 
from  the  imputation  of  propagating  deliberate 
falsehood.     Not  a  spectator  merely,  but  an  ac- 
torf ,  chiefly  instrumental  in  Richard's  destruc- 
tion, Morton's  knowledge  and  intentional  mis- 
representation  of   Edward's    marriage,    and 

•  We  have  already  seen  that  More  was  educated  in  the  house 
f  Morton. 
t  Morton  was  a  Lancastrian. 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE.  S8p 

Richard's  title,  bestows  additional  confirma- 
tion  on  both/'&c, — I  shall  now  simply  express 
my  opinion,  that  whosoever  pays  the  requisite 
attention  to  the  detail  of  Mr.  Laing's  argu- 
ments, will  be  convinced  with  me,  that  the  po- 
iitions  hehas  established  are  founded  in  truth. 


More*s  English  works  were  collected  by  or- 
der of  queen  Mary,  and  pubUshed  in  1557. 

Though  this  article  is  already  extended  to 
perhaps  a  disproportionate  length,  a  few  parti- 
culars relative  to  the  person  and  character  of 
8o  illustrious  a  man  may  not  be  unacceptable* 
The  person  of  sir  Thomas  More  was  of  the 
middle  stature,  and  exactly  proportioned ;  his 
pomplexion  fair,  with  a  light  tincture  of  red ; 
his  hair  dark  chesnut ;  his  eyes  grey ;  his  ge- 
neral aspect  smiling  and  festive^  rather  than 
grave  or  dignified ;  but  there  was  nothing  ia 
it  of  the  low  and  scurrilous.  His  moral  cha- 
racter, disconnected  from  his  religious  opi- 
nions, was  unimpeachable;  his  benevolence 
was  warm  and  diffusive ;  and  he  had  the  most 
generous  contempt  for  riches  and  external  ho- 
nours. Though  of  all  the  servants  and  favor- 
ites of  Henry  VHL  he  obtaiiied  the  greatest 


39Q  ■     Sl^  THOMAS  morb;. 

8hare  of  his  attention  and  kind  offices^  though 
Jie  had  filled  such  a  number  of  honorable  and 
dignified  stations  .during  a  period  of  t^wenty 
years,  bip  had  not  accumi^lated,  at  his  final  r^-? 
signation  of  all  public  business,  property  enough 
to  purchase  a  hundred  pounds  per  annum. 
While  in  the  practice  of  the  law,  no  fee  could 
bribe  him  to  defend  a  bad  cause. 

More  was  a  man  of  genius,  and  of  a  mind 
enriched  with  all  the  learriing  of  his  time. 
He  gave  early  proofs  of  superior  talent.  Be- 
fore he  was  nineteen,  he  had  acquired  a  crif 
tical  knowledge  of  the  Latin  and  Greek  Ian-* 
giiages,  was  well  versed  in  rhetoric,  and  other 
branches'  of  elegant  literature.  He  was  not 
only  intimately  acquainted  with  the  Greek  aad 
Koman  classics ;  but  it  appears  from  his  Eur 
icpiaf  his  most  celebrated  work,  that  he  had 
imbibed  the  generous  spirit  of  antiquity,  and 
embraced  sentiments  which  would  be  deemed 
free  even  in  modern  times.  Unhappily,  how^ 
ever,  his  fine  genius  and  excellent  understand- 
ing were  disgraced  by  the  grossest  bigotry  and 
superstition.  The  fact  would  appear  incrcr 
^ibl^,  were  there  not  variou&r  dther  examples 
pn  record  of  the  subjection  of  the  niost  splen- 
did tftlents  to  similar  weaknesses.     Thougl^ 


SIR  THOIICAB  MOBB*  SQl 

It  man  of  the  gentlest  manners^  and  of  incor« 
ruptible  integrity,  his  temper  had  been  'so 
irritated  by  polemics,  originating  in  the  events 
of  the  times,  as  to  inspire  him  with  the  most 
extravagant  attachment  to  the  ancient  super- 
stition. It  is  said*,  that  when  lord  chancel- 
lor, he  put  on  a  surpUce,  and  assisted  the 
priest  in  saying  mass  in  Chelsea -church. 
His  aversion  to  heterodoxy  was  so  implacable^ 
that  few  inquisitors  have  surpassed  him  an 
their  perseeutions  of  heresy.    - 

No  man  of  his  time  had  so  extensine  an  in- 
fluence over  his  cotemporaries.  He  held  al- 
most a  continual  correspondence  with  the 
chief  literati  of  Europe.  The  celebrated  Eras* 
mus  made  a  voyage  to  England,  on  purpose  to 
enjoy  the  pleasure  of  his  conversation.  There 
is  an  amusing  anecdote  on  record  of  the  first 
rencontre  of  these  two  illustrious  men.  It  was 
contrived,  that  at  their  first  interview  they 
should  be  unknown  to  each  other.  This  inter- 
view took  place  at  the  lord  mayor's  table,  at 
that  period  always  open  to  men  of  learning  and 
eminence.  At  dinner,  a  dispute  arising  on 
some  theological  points,  Erasmus  expressed 

♦  Stow's  London,  Vol.  11.  p.  763.— Note  by  Stiypc. 


392  SIR  TUOMAS  more; 

himself  with  great  severity  of  the  clergy,  and 
ridiculed  with  considerable  acrimony,  the  doc- 
trine of  transubs  tan  tiation.  This  was  a  tender 
subject  with  sir  Thomas,  and  he  rejoined  with 
the  utmost  poignancy  of  his  wit.  Erasmus, 
thus  powerfully  assailed,  was  urged  to  exclaim 
with  some  vehemence,  ^^  Aut  tu  Morus  es,  ant 
nullus;**  to  which  More  with  great  readiness, 
replied,  ^^  Aut  tu  es  flrasmus  aut  diabolus,'* 

In  this  contest,  sir  Thomas's  wit,  if  not  his 
arguments,  prevailed;,  but  some  time  after, 
Erasmus  had  a  similar,  and  a  far  greater  ad- 
vantage. More  had  lent  Erasmus  a  horse, 
which  he  took  over  with  him  to  Holland.  In-- 
stead  of  returning  it  to  the  owner,  he  sent  him 
the  following  epigram,  intended  as  an  answer 
to  the  quondam  arguments  of  sir  Thomas,  oii 
the  subject  of  transubstantiation ; 

Quod  mihi  dixisti, 
De  corpore  Christi, 

Crede  quod  edas,  et  edis  ; 
Sic  tibi  rescribo, 
De  tuo  palfrido ; 

Crede  quod  habeas,  et  habes. 

The  hiffh  estimation  in  which  both  he  and 


/ 


SIR  THOMAS  MOKE«  993 

his  fellow-sufferer,  bishop  Fischer,  were  held 
by  their  dountrymen,  is  further  evinced  by 
the  following  anecdote :  When  they  were 
both  confined  in  the  Tower,  for  their  refusal  to 
Bwear  to  the  supremacy.  Rich,  the  solicitor- 
general,  was  sent  to  each  in  succession,  to  in- 
duce them,  if  possible,  to  abandon  their  scru- 
ples. They  both  persisted  in  denying  the  king's 
supremacy,  and  the  illegality  of  his  marriage 
with  the  queen  Catherine  ;  though  they  con- 
ceded so  far  as  to  agree  to  swear  allegiance  to 
the  king,  and  to  the  succession.  Archbishop 
Cranmer  proposed  accepting  these  conces- 
sions, without  troubling  them  on  the  other 
points :  '*  for  (says  he  in  his  letter  to  Crom- 
well on  this  occasion,)  if  they  once  swear  to 
the  succession,  it  will  quiet  the  kingdom:  foi 
they  acknowledging  it,  all  other  persons  will 
acquiesce  and  submit  to  their  judgment."  But 
the  vindictive  temper  of  the  king  never  par- 
doned those  who  ventured  to  oppose  his  arbi- 
trary will. 

Another  anecdote  will  serve  to  prove  his  un- 
common ardour  in  literary  pursuits,  and  the 
high  value  he  in  consequence  set  upon  his 
time.— Sir  Thomas  was  possessed  of  great 
conversational  powers,  blended  with  that  de<* 


394  SIR  THOMAS  MORB* 

lightfiil  flow  of  feeling  which  never  fails  to 
warm  and  attach  the  heart.  Henry  VIII.  was 
delighted  with  his  company^  and  often  sent  for 
him ;  hut  these  marks  of  royal  favour^  which^ 
to  an  ordinary  mind  would  hare  been  the  most 
flattering  and  valued  tokens  of  regard,  weffe  • 
not  relished  by  More,  who  considered  every 
moment  thus  spent  as  an  encroachment  upon 
bis  more  important  occupations.  To  get  rid 
of  the  evil,  therefore,  he  resorted  to  the  singu* 
Jai"  expedient  of  appearipg  extremely  dull  in 
conversation  for  several  successive  times.  The 
stratagem  succeeded,  and  he  was  sent  for  no 
more.  He  thus  sacrificed  the  reputation  of  a 
wit,  to  save  his  time. 

Sir  Thomas  More  is  justly  regarded  as  one 
of  the  chief  revivers  of  classical  literature  in 
England.  He  both  wrote  and  spoke  L^tin 
with  almost  the  correctness  and  fluency  of  an 
anc;ent  Roman;  and  with  all  his  theological 
errors,  he  taught  that  erudition  which  civi- 
Jized  his  country.  He  is  scardely  less  conspi- 
cuous as  an  improver  of  his  native  tongue. 
His  language  is  more  studied,  more  appro* 
priate  and  correct— fis^  more  th^  phraseology  of 
It  man  of  learning  and  s^nse,  than  any  spe* 
pimen  which  preceded  him.    From  his  pro* 


SIR  THOMAS  MORE.  395 

^iency  in  the  Greek  and  Latin,  he  was 
enabled  to  transfuse  into  his  vernacular  dialect, 
piany  of  the  excellencies  which  characterise 
those  admirable  languages;  and ^ his  style 
abounds  with  inversions  and  other  peculiarities 
of  classical  diction.  His  English  works  were 
.considered  as  standards  of  style  as  lo\v  dgwii 
^s  the  reign  of  James  I. 


/ 


(    396    ) 


LELJND. 


John  Leland,  the  father  of  English  anti- 
quaries, was  born  in  London,  and  educated  at  ~ 
St.  Paul's  school,  under  William  Lilly,  the  ce- 
lebrated grammarian.  At  the  customary  age 
he  entered  at  Christ's  College,  Cambridge,  of 
which  he  became  a  fellow.  He  subsequently 
removed  to  All-souls,  Oxford.  After  a  resi- 
dence of  several  years  in  that  college,  during 
which  he  paid  particular  attention  to  Grecian 
literature,  he  visited  Paris,  perfected  himself 
in  the  Latin  and  Greek  by  his  intercourse  with 
Budaeus,  Faber,  Paulus  Emilius,  Ruellius,  and 
Francis  Sylvius^;  and  before  his  return  became  ' 
acquainted  with  the  French,  Italian,  and  Spa- 
nish languages.  To  these  he  subsequently 
added  the  Welch  and  Saxon.  - 

On  his  takiifg  orders,  Henry  VHL  made  him 
one  of  his  chaplains,  gave  him  the  rectory  of 


LELAND.  $97 

Popeling,  in  the  marches  of  Calais,  appointed 
him  his  library-keeper,  and  conferred  on  him 
the  title  of  his  antiquary.  He  thus  became 
the  first,  and  he  was  also  the  last  antiquary- 
royal,  in  England.  In  this  character,  his 
majesty,  in  1533,  granted  him  a  commission 
under  the  great  seal,  to  investigate  the 
antiquities  of  England ;  and  with  this  view, 
to  search  the  libraries  of  all  cathedrals,  ab- 
beys, priories,  colleges,  and  pther  repositaries 
of  the  records  of  antiquity.  In  this  anti- 
quarian research,  he  spent  above  six  years, 
observing  with  particular  care  all  the  tumuli, 
coins,  inscriptions,  &c.  which  he  met  with, 
and  directing  his  footsteps,  with  curious  vigi- 
lance, to  all  the  remains  of  Roman,  Saxon,  or 
Danish  buildings ;  visiting  likewise  all  the, 
sea-coasts,  as  well  as  midland  p^lrts  of  the 
country. 

Prior  to  Leland,  all  the  literary  monuments 
pf  antiquity,  were  totally  disregarded,  and  stu- 
dents from  Germany,  apprised  of  this  culpable 
indifference,  were  suffered  to  ejjter  our  libraries 
unmolested,  and  to  cut  out  of  the  books  repo- 
sited  thcrre,  whatever  passages  they  thought 
proper;  which  they  afterwards  published  as 
relics  of  the^  ancient  literature  of  their  own- 


/ 


country,-  The  havoc  thus  made  of  the  remain? 
of  our  ancient  learning,  as  well  as  by  the  ^b-* 
sequent  dissolution  of  the  monasteries^  Leland 
beheld  with  regret ;  and  he  wrote  to  secretary 
Cromwell,  to  intreat  his  assistance  in  rescuing 
from  the  injuries  of  time,  the  writings  of  ancient 
authors.  He  then  beg^n  a  diligent  search,  and 
every  literary  relic  he  could  find,  he  faithfully 
copied  and  registered,  some  of  which  he  af-^ 
terwards  reposited  in  tlfe  king's  library,  retain-* 
ing  others  in  his  owin  custody.  For  this  meri- 
torious toil,  the  king,  in  1542,  presented  him 
with  the  valuable  rectory  af  Hasely,  in  Ox- 
fordshire ;  the  year  following  preferred  him  to 
a  canonry  of  King's  College,  now  Christ- 
church,  Oxford ;  and  about  the  same  timef 
collated  him  to  a  prebend  in  the  church  of  Sa-* 
rum.  He  died  on  the  18th  of  Aprils  1552,  aftef 
having  been  two  years  in  a  state  of  insanity. 

The  writings  of  Leland  are  numerous,  con- 
sisting of  poetical  pieces  in  Latin,  and  even  in 
Greeks  as  well  as  of  antiquarian, prcSuctions. 
My  concern  is  lOnly  with  the  last.  These  I 
shall  mention  in  the  order  in  which  they  weref 
composed,  or  rather  printed. 

1 .  Assertio  inclytissimi  Artuniy  Regis  Britan^ 
nm,      Elencktis  Antiquorum  Nominum^   Lond. 


•      9 


ISLAND.  5991 

J54S,4to*— This  work  has  been  translated  into 
English  by  R.  Robinson,  under  the  title  ^'  An* 
cient  Order^  Society,  and  Unity  laudable  of 
Prince  Arthur  and  his  Knightly  Armory  of  the 
Round  Table;  with  a  Three-fold  Assertion, 
1582." 

2.  '*  The  Laborious  Journey  and  Search  of 
John  Leland,  for  England's  Antiquities,  given 
of  him  as  a  new  year's  gift  to  king  Henry 
VIII.  in  the  37th  year  of  his  reign." 

After  a  short  account  of  his  travels  and  cot 
lections,  he  informs  his  majesty,  that  he  had 
digested  into  four  books,  an  account  of  the  il- 
lustrious writers  of  this  realm,  with  their  lives 
and  monuments  ofleaming. 

Whereas  it  pleased  your  highness,  upon  very  just 
considerations,  to  encourage  me,  by  the  authority  of 
your  most  gracious  commission,  in  the  twenty- 
fifth  year  of  your  prosperous  reign,'  to  p^Aise  and 
diligently  to  search  all  the  libraries  of  monasteries 
and  colleges'  of  this  your  noble  realm,  to  the  intent 
that  the  monuments  of  anoient  writers,  as  well  of 
other,  as  of  this  your  own  province,  might  be 
brought  out  of  deadly  darkness  to  livdy  light,  and  to 
receive  like  thanks  of  the  posterity,  as  they  hoped 
for  at  such  time  as  they  employed  their  long  and 


400  lelanh* 

great  studies  to  the  public  wealth ;  yea,  arid  further- 
more, that  the  holy  scripture  of  God  might  both  be 
sincerely  taught  and  learned,  all  manner  of  supersti- 
tion and  craftily-coloured  doctrine  of  a  reut  of  the 
Roman  bishops  totally  expelled  out  of  this^  your 
most  catholic  realm :  I  think  it  now  no  less  than 
my  very  duty  brcvely  to  declare  to  your  majesty, 
what  fruit  hath  sprung  of  my  laborious  journey 
and  costly  enterprize,  both  rooted  upon  your  infinite 
goodness  and  liberality — qualities  right  highly  to  be 
esteemed  in  all  princes,  and  most  especially  in  you, 
a^  naturally  your  own  well  known  proprieties  *. 

First,  I  have  conserved  many  good  authors,  the  which 
otherwise  had  been  like  to  have  perished,  to  no  small 
incoitimodity  of  good  letters ;  of  the  which,  part  re- 
main in  the  most  magnificent  libraries  of  your  royal 
palaces ;  part  also  remain  in  my  custody ;  whereby 
I  trust  right  shortly  so  to  describe  your  most  noble 
realm,  and  to  publish  the  majesty  of  the  excellent  act* 
of  your  progenitors,  (hitherto  sore  obscured  both  for 
lack  of  enpririting  of  such  works  as  lay  secretly  in 
corners,  and  also  because  men  of  eloquence  hath  not 
entei'prised  to  set  them  forth  in  a  florishing  stile,  in 
some  times  past  not  commonly  used  in  England  of 
writers  otherwise  well  learned,  and  now  in  such  esti- 
mation, that  except  truth  be  delicately  clothed  in 
purpure\  her  written  verities  can  scant  *  find  a  reader  j) 

»  properties.  «  purple.  s  scarcely. 


that  all  the  world  shall  evidently  perceive  that  no 
particular  region  may  justly  be  more  extolled  than 
yours ;  for  true  nobility  and  virtues  at  all  points  re- 
nowned. Farthermore,  part  of  the  exemplaries  cu- 
riously sought  by  me,  and  fortunately  found  in  sun* 
dry  places  of  this  your  dominion,  hath  been  en- 
printed  in  Germany,  and  now  be  in  the  presses 
chiefly  of  Frobenius ;  that  not  all  only  the  Germans, 
but  also  the  Italians  themself,  (that  county  as  the 
Greeks  did,  full  arrogantly,  all  other  nations  to  be 
barbarous  and  unlettered,  saving  their  own,)  shall 
have  a  direct  oeeasion  openly  of  force  to  say,  that 
Britannia  prima  fuit  parens  aUrix,  (addo  hoc  etiam  et 
Juro  quodam  optimo)  conseroatri9:  cum  'Viroruni  magnO' 
runif  turn  maxime  ingemorum. 


Of  the  writers  of  England^  &c.  he  says : — 

The  first  book,  beginning  at  the  Druids,  is  de- 
ducted on  the  time  of  the  coming  of  St,  Augustine 
into  England.  The  second  is  from  the  time  of  J^u- 
gustine  on  to  the  advent  of  the  Normans.  The 
third  froiil  the  Normans  to  the  end  of  the  most  ho- 
norable reign  of  the  mighty,  famous,  and  prudent 
prince  Henry  VII.  your  father.  The  fourth  begin- 
neth  with  the  name  of  your  majesty,  whose  glory 
in  learnmg  is  to  the  world  so  clearly  known,  that 
tho'  among  the  lives  of  other  learned,  I  have  accu- 

VOL.  I.  ^    •  D  d 


I 


40fi  XELANDl. 

rately  celebrated  the  names  of  Bladudus,  Molmutius, 
Constantinus  Magnus,  Sigebertus,  AlfriduSy  Alfridu^ 
Jdagnus,  ^thelstanus,  and  Henry  I.  kings  and  your 
progenitors;  and  also  iBthelward,  second  son  to 
Alfred  the  Great ;  Hunfrid,  duke  of  Gloce&ter ;  and 
Tipetote,  earl  of  Worcester ;  yet  conferred  with  your 
grace^  they  seem  as  small  lights,  (if  I  may  freely  say 
my  judgment,  your  high  [modesty  not  offended,)  m 
respect  of  the  day-star. 

*♦#*•#• 
Wherefore,  after  that  I  had  perpended^  the  honest 
and  profitable  studies  of  these  historiographs,  I  was 
totally  enfiamed  with  a  love  to  see  thoroughly  all 
those  parts  of  this  your  opulent  and  ample  redm^ 
that  I  had  read  of  in  the  aforesaid  writers ;  inso? 
much  that  all  my  other  occupations  intermitted,  I 
have  so  travelled  in  your  dominions,  both  by  the  sea- 
coasts  and  the  middle  parts,  sparing  nother  labour 
nor  costs,  by  the  space  of  these  six  years  past ;  that 
there  is  almost  nother  cape  nor  bay,  haven,  creek  or 
pier,  river,  or  confluence  of  rivers,  breaches,  washes, 
lakes,  meres,  fenny  waters,  mountains,  valleys, 
moors,  heaths,  forests,  chaces,  woods,  cities,  burghs, 
castles,  principal  manor  places,  monasteries,  and 
colleges,  but  I  have  seen  them  ;  and  noted  in  so  do- 
ing, a  whole  world  of  things  very  memorable. 

Yea,  and  to  wade  farther  in  This  matter,  whereas 

1  weighed. 


IrELAND.  40S 

now  ali^ost  no  man  can  well  guess  at  the  shadow  of 
the  ancient  names  of  havens,  rivers,  promontories, 
hills,  woods,  cities,  towns,  castles,  and  variety  of 
kindreds  of  people,  that  Caesar,  Livy,  Strabo,  Dio- 
dorus,  Fabius  Pictor,  Pomponius  Mela,  Plinius, 
Cornelius  Tacitus,  Ptolemaeus,  Sextus  Rufus,  Am- 
mianus  Marcellinus,  Solinus,  Antoninus,  and  di- 
vers other  make  inention  of,  I  trust  so  to  open  this 
window,  that  the  light  shall  be  seen  so  long,  that  is 
to  say,  by  the  space  of  a  whole  thousand  years 
stopped  up,  and  the  whole  glory  of  your  renowned 
Britain  to  reflorish  through  the  world. 

This  dene,  I  have  matter  at  plenty  already  pre- 
pared to  this  purpose,  that  is  to  say,  to  write  an  his- 
tory, to  the  which  I  entend  to  adscribe  this  title,  De 
Antiquitate  Briiannicd ;  or  else,  Civilis  Historia.  And 
this  work  I  entend  to  divide  into  §o  many  books  as 
there  be  shires  in  England,  and  shires  and  great  do- 
minions in  Wales.  So  that  I  esteem  that  this  vo- 
lume will  include  a  fifty  books,  whereof  each  one  se- 
verally shall  contain  the  beginnings,  encreases,  and 
memorable  acts  of  the  chief  towns  and  castles  of  the 
province  allotted  to  it. 

Then  I  entend  to  distribute  into  six  books,  such 
matter  as  I  have  already  collected  concerning  the 
isles  adjacent  to  your  noble  realm,  and  under  your 
subjection.     Whereof  there  shall  be  of  these  isles, 

VectOf  Mma,  9,nd  Mcvania,  sometime  kingdoms. 

D  d  2 


404  LELAND* 

And  to  superadd  a  work  as  an  omp^ment,  and  9^ 
right  comely  garland  to  the  enterprizes  aforesaid,  I 
have  selected  stuff  to  he  distributed  into  three  hooks, 
the  which  ^  purpose  thus  to  entitle,  De  Nobilitaic 
Britannicd.  Whereof  the  first  shall  decliu'e  thq 
names  of  kings,  queens,  with  their  children  ;  dukes, 
earls,  lords,  captains,  and  rulers  ii^  this  realm,  to 
the  coming  of  the  Saxons ;  and  their  conquest.  The 
second  shall  be  of  the  Saxons  and  Danes,  to  the 
victory  of  king  William  the  Great.  The  third  from 
\he  Normans,  to  the  reign  of  your  most  noble  grace^ 
descending  lineally  of  the  Briton,  Saxon,  and  Nor? 
man  kings.  So  that  all  noblemen  shall  clearly  per? 
cejve  their  lineal  parentele, 


The  "New  Year's  Gift,''^Lond.  1549^  was 
edited  by  John  Bale,  with  notes ;  who  also  ad- 
ded of  his  own,  "  A  Register  of  the  Name$ 
of  English  Writers,"  whom  the  second  part  of 
his  work,  De  Scriptoribus  Britannia,  shall  com- 
prehend.  It  has  been  also  reprinted  by  Hearne, 
in  the  first  volume  pf  the  ^^  Itinerary"  pf  our 
author. 

3.  Commentarii  de  Scriptioribus  Britannicis^ 
jiuctore  Joanne  Lelando  Londinate,  Oxon,  1709j 
tKvoIs.  8vp,;  commonly  bound  in  one,    ThU 


LELANI>.  405 

Was  edited  by  Mr.  Anthony  Hall,  and  forms 
the  fourth  volume  of  the  author's  '*  CoUec-*" 
tions/  and  contains  the  hves  and  characters 
of  most  of  the  ieminent  writers  of  England,  A 
great  part  qf  this  work  has  been  transcribed  by 
Bale^  in  his  Scriptorum  Britannia  Catalogus; 
and  is  often  referred  to  by  Pits>  after  Bale. 

It  should  be  observed,  that  Leland,  as  like-* 
wise  Bale  and  Pits,  give  an  account  of  many 
learned  Britons  who  florished  long  before,  and 
about  the  time  of  the  Roman  invasion ;  but 
these,  for  the  most  part,  from  internal  evi- 
clence  alone,  we  may  pronounce  to  be  legen- 
dary. There  is  a  story  of  one  Perdix,  or  Par- 
tridge, a  British  prophet,  who,  according  to 
these  writers,  florished  in  the  year  700  before 
Christ,  and  was  cotemporary  with  Isaiah. 
The  ^tory  is  mentioned  at  some  length  by 
Henry. 

4.  '*  The  Itinerary  of  John  Leland,  the  anti^ 
quary,"  was  published  by  the  industrious 
Hearne>  Oxford,  1710,  in  9  volumes,  8vo.;  of 
which  a  second  edition  was  printed  in  1745> 
with  improvements  and  additions,  the  MS. 
having  been  re-examined  with  great  care,  many 
parts  supplied  and  amended,  and  many  pas- 
sages transferred  to  their  proper  places. 


406  LELAND. 

\  Leland^  in  his  description  of  the  kingdom^ 
lias  restored  the  ancient  names  of  places  in 
Britain.  The  antiquities  and  civil  history  of 
the  nation^  are  comprised  in  fifty  books^  cor- 
responding with  the  then  number  of  sUires  in 
England  and  Wales.  The  survey  of  the  Bri- 
tish Isles,  is  contained  in  six  books ;  and  fi- 
nally, an  account  of  the  nobility  of  Britain  in 
three;  agreeably  to  his  own  account  above  ex- 
tracted. 

5.  Johanni  Lelandi  Antiquarii  de  Rebus  Bri-^ 
tqnnicus  Collectanea.  Ex  Autographis  Descnp<^ 
sit  ediditque  Tho.  Heame,  A,  M.  Oxoniensis,  qui 
et  appendicem  subjecit,  totumque  opus,  (in  6  to* 
lumina  distributuniy)  fwtis  et  indice  donavit, 
Oxon.  1715,  8t?o. 

6t  CodrnSy  sive  Laus  et  Defensio  Gallofridi 

Arturii  Monumetensis,  contra  Polydorum  Virgin 

'  Hum.    A  defence  of  GeoflFrey  of  Monmouth, 

against  Polydore  Virgil.     Printed  in  the  sixth 

volume  of  the  '^  Collectanea*^ 

A  few  other  pieces  of  Leland  In  MS.  are 
reposited  in  the  Cottonian  and  other  libra- 
ries. Various  others  are  likewise,  ascribed  to 
him  by  Bale  and  Pits,  which  had  probably  ne- 
ver any  existence. — ^The  works  of  Leland  fur- 
nish a  fountain  whence  all  succeeding  antiqua- 


LELANO.  407 

ties  have  largely  drawn.  Among  these  may  be 
particularly  enumerated  Bale^  in  his  Catalogue 
of  English  Writers ;  Camden^  in  his  Britannia ; 
Burton,  in  his  Description  of  Leicestershire ; 
and  sir  W.  Dugdale^*  in  his  Antiquities  of 
Warwickshire. 

Leland,  in  addition  to  his  eminence  as  an 
antiquarian,  is  said  to  have  been  a  master  in 
poetry  and  oratory ;  but  this  encomium  is  con- 
ferred by  Bale,  a  brother  antiquarian^  who 
moreover  afiirms,  (probably  with  more  truth,) 
*'  that  Englaitd  never  saw,  and  he  believed,  ne- 
ver would  see^  a  man  to  him,  in  all  things  to 
be  compared,  (in  respect  of  antiquities,)  for 
tmdoubtedly  he  was  in  these  matters,  wonder- 
ful and  peerless,  so  that  as  concerning  them^ 
England  had  yet  never  a  greater  lops/' 


(    408    ) 


HARmNG. 


John  Harding,  anrtig^r,  was  nobly  desccncU 
cd,  and  born  somewhere  in  the  north  of  Eng- 
land }  though  the  particular  time  of  his  birth 
is  not  specified  by  Bale,  who  is  my  authority 
for  these  few  particulars.  He  first  served,  in 
his  military  capacity,  under  Robert  Umfre  ville ; 
then  under  the  duke. of  York,  afterwards  Ed- 
ward IV.  of  England.  The  precise  time  of  bis 
death  seems  to  be  also  unknown ;  but  he  was 
living,  an  old  man,  about  the  beginning  of 
Edward's  reign,  or  in  146  !• 

He  was  author  of  a  metrical' history,  of  Eng- 
land, from  its  fabulous  origin  to  the  com- 
mencement of  the  reign  of  that  prince,  to 
whom  it  was  dedicated.  His  nari^ative  is  very 
succinct  to  the  time  of  Henry  IV.  but  after- 
wards becomes  more  copious.    The  work  was 


ItARDINC.  40d 

printed  by  Grafton,  in  1543,  with  a  continua- 
tion in  prose,  (whether  by  himself  does  not  ap-* 
pear,)  to  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIIw 
with  the  following  title :  "  The  Chronicle  of 
John  Harding,  from  the  first  beginning  of 
England,  unto  the  reign  of  king  Edward  IV. 
where  he  made  an  end  of  his  Chronicle ;  and 
from  that  time  is  added  a  continuation  of  the 
story  in  prose,  to  this  our  time.  Now  first  im- 
printed, gathered  out  of  divers  and  sundry  au- 
thors that  have  written  of  the  affairs  of  Eng- 
land.    Mense  JamuiriiJ* 

Thi^Chronicle  should  perhaps  have  been-ar- 
Fanged  in  Edward  IV.'s  reign,  in  which  it  seemft 

?Lt  least  to  have  been  finished,  and- particu- 
arly  as  I  have  selected  a  short  extract  from  the 
metrical,  rather  than  the  prose  narrative.  But 
there,  it  would  have  somewhat  interfered  with 
the  books  printed  by  Caxton,  and  the  prose 
continuation  belongs  decidedly  to  this  reign. 

The  following  brief  specimen  of  this  histo- 
rical versifier,  has  some  antiquarian  curiosity,  as 
many  readers  will  be  able  to  connect  it  witU 
Jocal  associations :         ' 


410  HARDING* 


Chap,  41  • 

Ijudy  king  of  brUam^  buUded  from  London  Stone  to 
Ludgate,  and  called  that  part  Lud^s  Town  ;  and  of* 
ier^  by  process^  was  called  London^  hy  turning  of 
tongues. 

This  son  and  heir  was  Lud  of  much  mighty 

Then  crowned  by  all  baronage ; 

His  eities  all  eke  his  heritage,  castles  wight 

He  did  repair  that  were  his  heritage. 

And  where  was  worthy  his  service  and  hom£^e^ 

To  him  was  done^  in  lands  all  about 

Was  none  withstood,  so  was  he  dread  and  dout« 

With  walls  fair,  and  towers  fresh  about, 
His  city  great  of  Troynovant  full  fair, 
Full  well  he  made  and  battelled  thoughout^ 
And  palace  fair  for  royals  to  appear; 
Amending  other  defective  and  unfair. 
From  London  Stone  to  his  palace  royal. 
That  now  Ludgate  is  knowen  over  all^    , 


HARDING.  411 

Between  London  Stone  and  Ladgate  forthright^ 

That  called  was  then  for  his  name  Ludstone, 
He  made  men  build,  that  London  so  then  hight* 
His  palace  fair,  then  made  he  there  anon. 
With  towers  high,  both  of  lime  and  stone. 
Beside  Ludgate ;  and  his  temple  near  thereby^ 
His  God  to  serve,  and  him  to  glorify^ 

When  he  had  reigned  by  forty  year  all  oot| 
He  died  so,  and  in  his  temple  fair 
Entombed  was,  with  stories  all  about« 
Androgens  was  then  his  son  and  heir, 
Passing  of  sight  and  July  fair; 
Tenancius,  his  younger  son  of  age,    . 
Which  were  too  young  to  rule  the  heritage*      / 

Cassibalayn,  their  uncle,  then  was  king. 
And  found  his  nephews  full  honestly  and  well, 
And  nurtured  them  while  they  were  children  ying^ 
And  at  their  age  when  they  could  reason  feel. 
He  them  avanced  right  worshipfuUy  and  well. 
Androge  he  made  and  created  duke  of  Kent, 
Of  Troynovant  also  by  whole  entent. 


412  HARDING. 

The  immediate    predecessor  of  Lud,    wsei 
Hely,  who  ^ 

The  isle  of  Hely  made ; 
His  palace  gay  that  might  right  well  suffice. 
He  builded  there^  that  was  both  long  and  bradCf 
Wherein  he  dwelled  much  and  most  abide. 


*rhe  continuation  commences,  (as  befbte  bb- 
served,)  with  the  reign  of  Edward  IV,  and  ter- 
minates with  that  of  Henry  VII.  though  there 
are  two  pages  with  the  title  of  "  Reign  of  Hen- 
i-y-VIII/*  which  speak  generally  of  the  princi- 
pal aci^  of  that  prince ;  and  particularly  of  his 
**  dissolving  and  suppressing  all  counterfeit 
sects  and  false  religions  ;'*  so  that  the  contitiu- 
ation  must  have  been  written  late  in  this 
reign. 

Harding  had  an,  inveterate  enmity  to  the 
Scots,  against  whom  he  had  carried  arms  in 
several  expeditions.  He  was  anxious  to  prove 
their  ancient  vassalage  to  the  crown  of  £ng-* 
land,  and  with  this  view  ransacl^ed  all  the  old 
Chronicles  he  could  meet  with;  Not  content 
with  this,  hearing  of  the  existence  of  an  anci-* 
ent  record  in  Scotland;  which  placed  the  mat-< 


HARPHNO.  415 

ter  beyond  dispute,  he  undertook  a  perilous 
Journey  thither  in  disguise,  and  after  much 
difficulty,  bore  it  oj0F  in  triuniph  j  exhibiting 
it  successively  to  Henry  Y.  and  VI,  ^nd  lastly 
fp  Edward  IV. 


\ 


/ 


<    414    ) 


HALL. 


Edward  Haii.  was  born  in  London,  (in 
t^hat  year  is  not  recorded^)  and  educated  at 
Eton  school;  whence  he  was  removed  to 
King's  College,  Cambridge,  and  subsequently 
entered  as  student  at  Gray's  Inn.  Fuller  says 
that  he  became  common  sergeant  (by  which  he 
probably  means  recorder,)  of  London  ;  for  his 
exemplary  conduct  ia  which  office,  he  was  af- 
terwards advanced  to  be  one  of  the  judges  in 
tl^e  Sheriff's  Caurt.  He  died  at  a  very  ad- 
vanced age  in  1547.  / 

Hall  compiled  a  Chronicle  of  the  wars  be- 
tween the  two  Roses,  entitled — ^'  The  Union 
of  the  two  noble  and  illustre  families  of  Lan- 
caster and  Ifbrk,  being  Jong  in  continual  dis- 
sention  for  the  crown  of  this  noble  realm,  with 
all  the  acts  done  in  both  the  times  of  the 
princeS;^  both  of  the  one  lineage  and  of  the 


HALt.  415 

Other ;  beginning  at  the  time  of  king  Henry 
IV.  the  first  author  of  this  divison,  and  so  suc- 
cessively proceeding,  to  the  reign  of  the  high 
and  prudent  prince,  king  Henry  VHL  the  in- 
dubitate  flower,  and  very  heir  of  both  the  said 
lineages  :  whereunto  is  added  to  every  king  a 
several  table."  The  work  is  dedicated  to  Hen- 
ry VHL  and  was  printed  by  Grafton  in  1548; 
^so  in  1550. 
iThe  following  is  a  list  of  his  authorities. 

LATIN    AUTHORS. 

1.  Polt/chronicon.  2.  Cronica  Cronicarum^ 
S.  Nauclems.  4.  Polydorus.  5.  Paulus  Mmi" 
iius,  6.  Voluteranm.  7»  Gauguinus.  8.  ^4/- 
Ifertits  Krantz,  9«  Michael  Ricius.  10.  Hector 
Poetius.  U.  Johannes  Major,  12.  Abbas 
Wyssenbergensis.  13.  Canon,  14.  Supplimen^ 
tpm  Cronicarum.  15.  Gesta  Tholosanorum*  16* 
Cronica  Brabancie. 


FRENCH    AUTHOE8. 

l^Enquerant  de  Munstrellet.  2.  Jean  Btir- 
diet*  3.  Jean  Mayer  de  Belget,  4.  Argenton. 
5.  Le  Mere  des  Histories.    6.  Les  Annates  de 


416  HALL. 

Trance.  7-  I^es  Annates  de  Aquitayne.  8. 
Les  Croniqz  de  JBritayne.  9*  Giles  Corozett. 
JO.  Les  Croniques  de  NormandL  11.  Le  Ro^ 
sarie.     12.  Le  Genolagie  des  Roys. 

ENGLISH  WRITERS. 

1.  Trevisa,  2.  Fabian,  S.  Sir  Thomas  More. 
4.  Caxton.  5.  Joliji  Harding^  6.  The  Chro- 
nicles of  London.  7«  Johi  Basset.  8.  Balan- 
tyne;  and  *^  divers  other  pamphlets,  the  names 
of  whom  are  to  most  men  unknowen." 

In  an  advertisement  to  the  reader,  Grafton 
informs  us  that  Hall  carried  his  historv  no  far- 
Hher  than  the  24th  year  of  Henry  VHI.^ "  The 
rest,  (says  he,)  he  left  noted  in  divers  and  many 
pamphlets  and  papers,  which  so  diligently 
and  truly  as  I  could,  I  gathered  the  same  to- 
gether, and  hav^  in  such  wise  compiled  them, 
as  may  after  the  said  years  appear  in  this  work ; 
but  utterly  without  ^ny  addition  of  mine." 

'^  The  nanles  of  the  histories  contained  in 
this  volume.'* 

1.  An  introduction  into  the  division  of  the 
two  houses. of  Lancaster  and  York.  2.  The 
unquiet  time  of  king  Henry  IV.  3.  The  victo- 
xious  acts  of  king  Henry  V.  4.  The  troublous 
season  of  Henry  VI.    5.  The  prosperous  reiga 


hall/  4lf 

^{  king  Edward  IV.  6.  The  pitiful  life  of  king 
Edward  V.  7.  The  tragical  doings  of  king 
Richard  III.  8*  The  politic  governance  of 
king  Henry  VIL  9*  The  triumphant  reign  of 
king  Henry  VIIL 

The  passage  which  follows,  presents  the  rea- 
der with  a  specimen  of  the  youthful  diversions^ 
of  Henry  :—^ 

On  May  D^y  then  rtext  following,  in  the  secdiid 
year  of  his  reign^  his  graee  €eing  young,  and  willing 
not  to  be  idle,  rose  in  the  morning  very  early  to 
fetch  may,  or  green  boughs,  hitnself  fresh  iEtnd  richly 
apparelled ;  and  clothed  all  his  knights,  squires,  and 
gentlemen  in  white  satin ;  ^and  all  his  guard  and  yeo- 
men of  thfe  crown  iti  white  sarsenet ;  and  ^o  went 
every  man  with  his  bow  and  .arrows  shooting  to  the 
wood ;  and  so  repaired  again  to  the  court,  every  man 
with  a  green  bough  in  his  cap ;  and  at  his  returning, 
many  hearing  of  his  going  a-maying,  were  desirous 
^to  see  him  shoot:  for  at  that  time  his  grace  shot  as 
strong,  and  as  great  a  length,  as  any  of  his  guards 
There  came  to  his  grace  a  certain  man  with  bow  and 
arrowS)  and  desired  his  grace  to  take  the  master 
of  himi  and  to  see  him  shoot :  for  at  that  time  hid 
grace  was  contented.  The  man  put  his  one  foot  in 
his  bosom,  and  so  did  shoot,  and  shot  a  very  good 

VOL,  lA  ]K  e 


4iB  HALL. 

shot,  aird  well  towards  his  mark ;  whereof  not  only 
his  grace,  but  all  other  greatly  marvelled^  So  tte 
king  gave  him  a  reward  for  his  so  doing,  which  per- 
son afterwards,  of  the  people  and  of  them  in  the 
court,  was  called  Foot-in-bosom. 

The  same  year,  in  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  holden  at 
Greenwich,  that  is  to  say,  the  Thursday  in  the  same 
week,  his  grace,  with  two  other  with  him,  challenged 
all  comers  to  fight  with  them  at  the  barriers,  with 
target  and  casting  of  the  spear  of  eight  foot ;  and 
that  done,  his  grace,  with  the  said  two  aids,  to  fight 
every  of  them  with  two-handed  swords,  with  and 
against  all  comers,  (none  except  being  a  gentlanan,) 
where  the  king  behaved  himself  so  well,  and  deli- 
vered himself  so  valiantly,  by  his  hardy  prowess  and 
great  strength,  that  the  praise  and  laud  was  given  to 
his  grace,  and  his  aids;  notwithstanding  that  divers 
valiant  and  strong  persons  had  assailed  him  and  his . 
auds. 

From  thence  the  whole  court  removed  to  Win^or, 
then  beginning  his  progress,^  exercising  himself  daily 
-ifn  shooting,  singing,  dancing,  wrestling,  casting  of 
the  bar,  playing  at  the  recorders,  flute,  virginals^ 
and  in  setting  of  songs,  making  of  bdettes  ;  and  did 
-  ^et  two  goodly  masses,  every  of  them  five  parts, 
which  were  sung  oftentimes  in  his  chapel,  and.  after-* 
/  wards  in  divers  other  places^    And  when  he  came 

to  Caking,  there  were  kept  b#th  justs  and  touraey^. 


iiAtt.  419 

The  re^t  of  b^s  progress  was  spent  in  hunting,  b4wk^ 
ing,  ^nd  shooting. 

*  •  «  *  iF    '  « 

The  said  progress  finished>  his  grace,  the  queen» 
with  all  their  whole  train,  in  the  month  of  October 
following,  jfemoved  to  Greenwich*  The  king  not 
minded  to  see  young  gentlemen  unexpert  in  martial 
feats,  caused  a  place  to  be  prepared,  within  the  park 
of  Greenwich,  for  the  queen  and  the  ladies  to  stand 
and  see  the  fight  with  battle  axes,  that  should  be 
done  there ;  where  the  king  himself,  armed,  fought 
with  one  Gyot,  a  gentleman  of  Almayne,  a  tall  man^ 
and  a  good  man  of  arms.  And  th^n  after  they  had 
iione,  they  marched  alvjrays  two  and  two  together, 
and  so  did  their  feats  and  enterprises  every  man  very 
well.  Albeit,  it  happened  the  Gyot  to  fight  with  sii^ 
Edward  Howard^  which  Gyot  was  by  him  stricken  to 
the  ground. 

The  morrow  after  this  enterprise  done,  the  king, 
with  the  queen,  came  to  the  Tower  of  London.  And  to 
the  entent  that  there  should  be  no  displeasure  nor 
malice  be  borne  by  any  of  those  gentlemen  which 
fought  with  the  axe  against  other,  the  king  gave  un« 
to  them  a  certain  sum  in  gold,  valued  at  200  mark^ 
to  make  a  banquet  among  themselves  withal.  The ' 
which  banquet  was  made  at  the  Fishmongers*halls 
in  Thames-street,  where  they  all  met  to  the  number 
Qf  twenty-*fi)ur,  all  apparelled  in  one  suit  or  livery, 


420  HAtt. 

after  Almayne  fashion,  that  is  to  say,  their  utter  gar- 
ments all  of  yellow  satin,  yellow  hosen,  yellow 
shoes,  girdles,  scabbards,  and  bonnets,  with  yellow 
feathers ;  tl^eir  garments  and  hosen  all  cat  and 
lined  with  white  satin,  and  their  scabbards  wound 
about  with  satin.  After  their  banquet  ended,  they 
went  by  torch-light  to  the  Tower,  presenting  them^ 
selves  before  the  king,  who  took  pleasure  to  behold 
them. 

From  thence^  the  8th  day  of  November,  his  grace 
removed  to  Richmond,  and  willed  to  b^  declared  to 
all  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  that  his  grace,  with 
two  aids,  that  is  to  wit,  master  Charles  Brandon-, 
and  master  Compton,  during  two  days,  would  an- 
swer all  comers  with  spear  at  the  tilt  one  day,  and  at 
tourney  with  swords,  the  other« 

And  t;o  accomplish  this  enterprise,  the  13  th  day 
of  November,  his  grace,  armed  at  all  pieces,  with 
his  two  aids,  entered  the  field ;  their  bases  and  trap- 
pers were  of  cloth  of  gold,  set  with  red  roses,  iff- 
greyled  with  gold  of  brdwdery.  The  counterpart 
came  in  freshly,  apparelled  every  man  after  his  de- 
,  vise.  At  these  justs,  the  king  brake  more  staves 
than  any  other,  and  therefore  had  the  price.  At  the 
tourney  in  likewise,  the  honour  was  his.  The  se^ 
cond  night  were  divers  strangers  of  Maximilian,  the 
emperor's  court,  and  ambassadors  of  Spain,  with  the 
king  at  supper.    When  they  had  supped,  the  king 


HALL.  421 

Honied  them  to  go  into  the  queen's  chamber,  who  so 
did.     And  in  the  mean  season,  the  king,  with  fif- 
teen  other,  apparelled  in  .Almayne  j  sockets  of  Ef' 
mosyn€y  and  purple  satin,  with  long  quai;tered  sleeves, 
with  hosen  of  the  same  suit ;  their  bonnets  of  white 
velvet,  wrapped  in  flat  gold  of  damask,  with  visors 
*  and  white  plumes^  came  in  with  a  mummery;  and 
after  a  certain  time  that  they  had  played  with  Uie 
queen  and  the  strangers,  they  departed.     Then  sud- 
denly entered  six  minstrels,  richly  apparelled,  playing 
on   their  instruments;    and  then  followed  fourteen 
"persons,  gentlemen,  all  apparelled  in  yellow  satin, 
cut  like  Almaynes,'  bearing  torches.      After   them 
fame  six  disguised  in  white  satin  and  green,  enbrou- 
dered  and  set  with*  letters  and  castles  of  fine  gold,  in 
bullion..   The  garments  were  of  strange  fashion,  with 
also  strange  cuts,  every  cut  knit  with  points  of  fine 
gold,  and  tassels  of  the  sape ;  t|ieir  hosen  cut  and 
tied  in  likewise;  their  bonnets   of  cloth  of  silvef, 
wound  with  goldf     First  of  these  six  was  the  king, 
the  earl  of  Essex,  Charles  Brandon,  sir  Edward  How- 
ard, sir  Thomas  Knevet,  and  sir  Heqry  Guilford, 
Then  part  of  the  gentlemen  bearing  torches^  depart- 
ed, sLnd  shortly  returned;  after  whom  came  in  six 
ladies,   apparelled  in  garments  of  Ermosyney  sati^, 
enbroudered,  and  traversed  with  cloth  of  gold,  cut  in 
pomegranets  and  yokes,  stringed  ^fter  th^  fashion  of 
Spain.     Then  th^  said  six  men  danced^  with  these 


V 

/ 


$13$:  ladies ;  and  after  that  they  had  danced  a  seas6n, 
the  ladies  took  off  the  men's  visors,  whereby  they 
were  knowen  :  whereof  the  queen  and  the  Strangers 
much  praised  the  king,  and  ended  the  pastinae. 


This  will  suffice  for  a  specimen  of  the  sort 
of  matter  frequently  to  be  found  in  this 
author. 

Hair^  Chronicle  is  one  of  the  principal  au^ 
thorities  for  that  dark  period  of  our  history, 
comprehending  the  wars  between  the  Houses 
of  York  £ind  Lancaster,  *  But  his  narrative^ 
(like  those  of  his  predecessor  Fabian^  and  of 
his  successors^  Grafton  and  Holinshed,)  is  dull 
and  tedious^  often  puerile.  Nicholson  says  of 
|iim*-r"  If  the  reader  desires  to  know  what 
sort  of  clothes  were  worn  in  each  king's  reign, 
md  how  the  fashions  altered^  this  is  an  histOT 
tian  to  his  purpose."  It  may  be  remarked,  how- 
ever, that  all  the  ancient  chroniclers  derive  no 
small  portion  of  their  value  to  a  modern  rea- 
der, from  this  minuteness  of  description  rela- 
tive to  objects  which  would  be  disregarded  by 
modern  historians,  as  degrading  the  dignity  of 
history :  for  it  is  by  means  of  such  descrip^ 
^ions  chiefly,  that  we  are  enabled  to  trace  the 


HALL.  423 


progress  of  manners,  and  to  comprehend  the 
state  of  society  in  any  given  period.  In  this 
view,  we  find  some  compensation  for  their 
dullness  and  want  of  judgments 


(    424    ) 


TYNDJLE,  C0FERD41E,  ROGERS, 

Versions  of  th$  Bible, 


mmm^m 


TYNDALE. 

This  celebrated  reformer  was  bom  on  the 
borders  of  Wales,  about  the  year  1500.  At 
tbe  usual  age>  he  entered  at  Magdalene  Col* 
lege,  Oxford,  where  be  early  imbibed  the  te* 
nets  of  Luther,  and  engaged  with  great  zeal  in 
their  propagation.  He  subsequently  removed 
to  Cambridge,  which  he  quitted  to  become  an 
inmate  in  the  house  of  sir  ■'»■  ".  Welch,  in 
Glocestershire,  in  quality  of  tutor  to  his  chil- 
dren. Here  he  displayed  such  zeal  for  Luther, 
und  such  enmity  to  the  pope,  that  he  was  com- 
pelled to  quit  his  place  of  residence. 
While  be  remained  here,  however^  he  trans^ 


TYNDALE.  425 

lated  into  English,  /'  Erasn^us*s  Manual  of  a 
Christian  Soldier,"  with  the  view  (as  he  says 
himi^elf,)  of  curing  the  vulgar  error  of  mea^s 
placing  religion  in  ceremonies,  and  more  than 
Jewish  observations  of  corporal  things,"  &c* 
As  the  history  of  this  distinguished  reformer 
now  becomes  interwoven  with  the  brief  histo-* 
rical  narrative  I  am  about  to  give  of  the  trans* 
lations  of  the  Bible,  I  shall  say  nothing  more 
of  him  in  this  place,  ^ 


mm 


Versions  of  the  Bible. 

About  twenty-four  years  after  the  death  ofl' 
Wicliffe,  archBishop  Arundel,  in  a  convoca- 
tion of  the  clergy  of  his  province  assembled  at 
Oxford,  published  a  constitution,  by  which  it 
was  decreed,  *'  that  no  one  should  thereafter 
translate  any  text  of  Holy  Scripture  into  Eng- 
lish, by  way  of  a  book,  a  little  book,  or  tract ; 
and  that  no  book,  8cc.  of  this  kind  shpuld  be 
read  that  was  composed  lately  in  the  time  of 
John  Wicliffe,  or  since  his  death.'* 

The  Latin  Bible,  or  Vulgate,  was  first  prints* 
cd  in  146gl,  ^nd  by  several  succeeding  edi* 


426  rYNBALE. 

tions;  soon  became  common*  The  Old  Testa^ 
jDent,  in  Hebrew,  was  first  printed  in  1488 ; 
f^nd  the  New  Testament  at  Basil,  in  its  origi- 
i^al  Greek,  abont  thirty  years  after.  When 
these  sacred  oracles  were  brought  into  Eng- 
land, with  the  introduction  of  printing,  the  il- 
literate and  terrified  monks  declaimed  from 
their  pulpits,  that  there  was  now  a  new  lan- 
guage discovered,  called  Greek,  of  which  peo- 
ple should  beware,  since  it  was  that  which 
produced  all  the  heresies;  that  in  this  lan«^ 
guage  was  corae  forth  a  book  called  the  New 
Testament,  which  was  now  in  every  body's 
liands,  and  was  full  of  thorns  and  briairs  ;  that 
there  was  also  another  language  now  started 
wp,  which  they  called  Hebrew,  and  that  they 
who  learned  it  were  turned  Hebrews. 

About  this  time,  tl;ie  vicar  of  Croydon,  in 
Surry,  in  a  sermon  preached  at  Paul's  Cross, 
is  said  to  have  declared,  with  prophetic  wis- 
dom, ^'  We  must  root  out  printing,  or  print'.- 
ilig  will  root  out  us/* 

Notwithstanding,  however,  the  clamours  of 
the  monks,  and  persecutions  of  the  secular 
clergy,  William  Tyndale,  in  the  reign  of  Hen- 
ry VilL  undertook  fo  translate  the  Scriptures 
from  the  original  Hebrew  and  Greek,  into 


TYNDALE.  ^27 

I 

English  ;  though  he  was  convinced,  from  the 
circumstances  of  the  times,  that  the   under- 
taking would  be  accomplished  at  the  hazard  of 
his  life.    That  he  might  prosecute  his  design 
in    greater   security,   he   made   an    attempt, 
through  the  interest   of  sir  Henry  Guildford, 
master  of  horse  to  the  king,  and  a  w^rm  pa*  * 
tron  of  learned  men,  to  be  admitted  into  the  fa- 
mily pf  Tonstal,  lately  promoted  to  the  gee  of 
London.     But  his  application  proving  unsuc^ 
cessful,  anH  still  contemplating  his  favourite 
object  with  ardent  enthusiasm^  he  resolved  to 
go  abroad.     To  accomplish  which  purpose,  he 
was  allowed  an  annuity  of  ten  pounds  a  year 
Iby  Humprey  Monmouth,  a  wealthy  citizen, 
and  a  favourer  of  the  reformation ;  and  at  Ant* 
werp,  in  Flanders,  he  prosecuted  his  design 
with  great  assiduity.    John  Fry  and  William 
Roye,  who  acted  as  amanuenses  for  him,  also 
assisted  him  in  collating  texts ;  and  the  New 
Testament  was  finished  in  1^26,  of  which  one 
thousand  five  hundred  copies  were  printed, 
but  without  a  name.    This  edition,  by  Tyn- 
dale's  own  acknowledgment,  had  considerable 
errors ;  but  it  sold  so  rapidly,  that  the  folfow* 
ingyear  another  edition  was  published  by  the 
Putcb  printers,  aod  .the  year  after^  auo^heri 


428  TYNDALE. 

each  consisting  of  five  thousand  copies.  Great 

numbers  of  thfese  were  imported  into  England, 

and  the.  whole  speedily  sold.    The  importers, 

however,  were  prosecuted  with  great,  though  '  I 

often  ludicrous  severity.    To  give  an  instance — 

John  Tyndale,  the   translator's  brother,  and 

Tlaomas  Patraore,  merchants,  were  condemned 

to  do  penance,  by  riding  with  their  faces  to 

their  horses'  tails,  with  the  books  fastened  thick 

about  them,  pinned  or  tacked  to  their  gowns 

or  cloaks,  to  the  standard  in  Cheapf  and  there, 

with  their  own  hands,  to  fling  them  into  the 

fire  kindled  on  purpose  to  burn  them. 

But  the  zeal  of  the  reformers  surmounted  - 
every  obstacle,  and  the  New  Testament  of  this 
traaslation,  continued  to  be  imported  and  read ; 
a  fact  which  is  proved  from  the  sale  of  the 
three  editions  before  mentioned,  before  the 
year  1530,  when  a  third  Dutch  edition  was 
printed. 

Meanwhile  Tyndale  was  diligently  occupied 
in  translating  from  the  Hebrew  the  five  books 
of  Moses  ;  and  having  finished  his  translation, 
he  was  shipwrecked  on  his  voyage  to  Ham- 
burgh, (undertaken  in ,  order  to  print  it,)  the 
manuscript  lost,  and  he  was  obliged  to  begin  all 
wew.    From  this  accident,  the  Old  Testament 


tVNDALE.  4Q^ 

did  not  appear  in  ah  English  dress  till  the  year 
1530.  In  this  year  too,  being  now  at  leisure, 
Tyndale  published  his,  ^^  Answer  unto  sir  Tho- 
mas More's  Dialogue." 

In  1534,  a  fourth  Dutch  edition  of  Tyndale's 
New  Testament  was  printed,  in  12mo,  a  copy 
of  which  is  in  lord  Pembroke's  library ;  and 
abo>it  three  months  after  was  published,  his  se- 
cond edition  of  the  New  Testament,  in  the 
whole,  the  sixth,  carefully  corrected.  Before 
this  edition  was  quite  printed,  TyndaJe  was  be- 
trayed; and  being  apprehended  by  the  of- 
ficers of  the  emperor,  was  confined  a  close 
prisoner  in  the  castle  of  Til  ford,  about  eigh- 
teen miles  from  Antwerp,  where  he  remained 
during  a  year  and  half.  The  English  mer- 
chants exerted  themselves  to  their  utmost  to  re- 
lease him  ;  and  letters  from  lord  Cromwell  and 
others,  were  dispatched  from  England  to  coun- 
tenance and  assist  their  endeavours;  but  by 
the  activity  of  Philips,  the  agent  of  the  catho- 
lics for  that  purpose,  he  tvas  hurried  to  a 
trial,  condemned,  and  publi^'ly  executed  in 
1536,  being  first  strangled,  and  then  burnt  to 
ashes. 


43d      .  COVERtiAtfi. 

Several  other  editions  of  hi^  corrected  cd-> 
py  of  the  New  Testament,  were  given  to  the 
public  in  the  year  of  his  martyrdom. 


COVERDALE* 


'  The  next  translator  of  the  Scriptures  was 
Miles  Coverdale,  a  native  of  Yorkshire,  who 
was  subsequently  professed  of  the  house  of 
Austin  Friars,  in  Cambridge,  of  which  Dn 
Barnes,  who  was  burnt  for  heresy,  was  prior. 
Having  incurred  danger  by  embracing  the 
same  heretical  opinions,  he  fled  his  country, 
and  employed  himself  tirith  zealous  diligence 
in  the  study  and  translation  of  the  Scriptures- 
Accordingly,  in  the  year  1335,  a  translation  of 
the  whole  Bible  appeared,  dedicated  to  the 
king.  In  this  dedication  he  tells  his  majesty, 
that  '^  The  blind  bishop  of  Rome  no  more 
knew  what  he  did  when  he  gave  him  this  title, 
'  Defender  of  the  Faith,'  than  the  Jewish  hi- 
shop  Caiaphas,  when  he  prophesied  that  it  was 
better  to  put  Christ  to  death,  than  that  all  the 
people  should  perish ;  that  the  pope  gave  him 


COVEHDAtE.  43i 

this  title,  only  because  his  highness  suffered 
him  to  burn  God's  word,  the  root  of  faith,  and 
to  persecute  the  lovers  and  ministers  of  itf 
whereas  in  very  deed  he  prophesied,  that  by 
the  righteous  administration  of  his  grace,  the 
faith  should  be  so  defended,  that  God's  word, 
the  mother  of  faith,  should  have  ita  free  course 
thorow  all  Christiendom,  but  especially  in  hia 
grace's  realm ;  that  his  grace,  in  very  deed^ 
should  defend  the  faith,  yea  even  the  true 
faith  of  Christ;  no  dreams,  no  fables,  no  he* 
resy,  no  papistical  inventions;  but  the  uncor- 
rupt  faith  of  God's  most  holy  word,  which,  to 
set  forth,  his  highness,  with  his  most  honour^ 
able  council,  applied  all  study  and  endea« 
vour." 

In  executing  his  version,  Coverdale  informs 
ws,  that  he  made  use  of  five  different  interptse- 
tersj  who  had  translated  the  Scriptures  not  on- 
ly into  Latin,  but  also  into  Dutch.  He  stile» 
it  a  '*  Special  Translation,'^  to  distinguish  ft 
from  the,  translations  which  preceded  it.  Thi» 
will  be  most  apparent  by  the  comparison  of 
a  passage  of  this  with  the  version  of  Tyn-^ 
dale. 


43a  CoVEttdALtf. 

Tyiidale. 

■s. 

Gen.  2fg. 

When  the  Lord  saw  that  Lea  was  despised,  he 
made  her  fruitful,  but  Rahel  barren^  And  Lea  con- 
ceived and  bare  a  son,  and  called  his  name  Ruben : 
for  she  said,  the  Lord  hath  looked  lipon  my  tribula- 
tion.    And  now  my  husband  will  love  me.         / 

Coverdale. 

But  when  the  Lord  saw  that  Lea  was  nothing  re- 
garded, he  made  her  fruitful,  and  Rachel  barren. 
And  Lea  conceived  and  bare  a  son,  whom  she  called 
Ruben,  and  said,  the  Lord  hath  looked  upon  mine 
adversity.     Now  will  my  husband  love  me. 


There  was  another  edition  of  this  Bible,  4to- 
in  1550,  republished  with  a  new  title  in  1553, 
which  are  supposed  by  Lewis  to  be  the  only 
editions  of  this  version. 

The  clergy  affected  not  to  approve  this  ver- 
sion of  Tyndale  and  Coverdale;  and  accord- 
ingly, in  «  convocation  of  the  province  of 
Canterbury,  held  June  9th,  1536,  they  agreed 
upon  a  form  of  petition  to  the  king,  that  he 


tvould  graciously  indulge  uato  his  subjects  of 
the  laity^  the  reading  of  the  Bible  inr  the;  Eng- 
lish tongue>  and  that  a  new  translation  of  it 
might  be  forthwith  made  for  that  end  and  pur- 
pose. Still  there  is  reason  to  conclude  that  it 
was  licensed  by  the  king :  for  soon  after  it  wa» 
finished^  were  published  by  lord  Cromwellj 
keeper  of  the  privy  seal,  and  vicegerent  to 
the  king,  for  and  concerning  all  his  jurisdic- 
tibn  ecclesiastical  within  his  realm,  "  injunc- 
tions to  the  clergy,  by  the  authority  of  the  king^s 
highness,"  of  which  the  seventh  orders— 

^^That  every  person  or  proprietary  of  any 
parish  church  within  thid  realm,  shall  on  this 
side  the  feast  of  St.  Peter,  ad  vincuhf  Aug.  1, 
next  coming,  provide  a  book  of  the  whole 
Bible,  both  in  Latin,  and  also  in  English,  anct 
lay  the  same  in  the  quire,  for  every  man  that 
will  to  look  and  i^ad  thereon :  and  shall  dis- 
courage no  man  from  the  reading  any  part  of 
the  Bible,  either  in'  Latin  or  English,  but  ra- 
ther comfort,  exhort,  and  admonish  every 
man  to  read  the  same  as  the  very  word  of 
God,  and  the  spiritual  food  of  man's  soul, 
whereby  they  may  the  better  know  theit  duties 
4o  God,  to  their  sovereign  lord  the  king,  and 
their  neighbour;  ever  gently  and  charitably 

VOL.  I.  Ff 


4S4  <iOVEftDALti. 

txhorting  tHfem,  that  using  a  sober  and  modest 
behaviour  in  the  reading  and  inquisition  of  the 
true  sense  of  the  same^  they  do  in  no  wise  stiff- 
ly' or  eagerly  contend  or  strive  one  with  ano- 
ther about  the  same^  but  refer  the  d^laration 
of  those  places  that  be  in  controversy^  to  the 
judgment  of  them  that  be  better  learned/* 

In  16S7,  appeared  another  edition  of  the 
English  Bible^  in  folio,  with  the  following 
title  >— 

MatthewU  Bible. 

The  Bible,  which  is  all  the  Holy  Scripture,  in 
which  are  contained  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment, truly  and  purely  translated  into  English, 
by  Thomas  Matthew.  This  edition  is  to  be 
found  in  the  earl  of  Pembroke's  library,  and  is 
said  to  have  been  a  second  edition  of  Cover- 
dale's  Bible>  prepared  by  John  Rogers,  It 
wias  printed  somewhere  abroad  by  Grafton, 
perhaps  at  Marsburgh,.  in  Hessia;  or  at  Paris; 
since  Francis  I.  granted  a  license  to  him  and 
Edward  Whitchurch,,  to  print  the  English  Bible 
in  that  city.  Of  this  edition  Grafton  presented 
six  copies  to  archbishop  Cranmer,  and  the  lord 
Cromwell.  It  has  been  observed  of  this  Bible, 
by  Mr.  Wanley,  that  ^*  to  the  end  of  the  book 


^t  Chronicles,  it  is  Tyndale's  translation ;  and 
from  thence  to  the  end  of  the  Apbcrypha,  Co- 
verdale^s;  and  that  the  whole  New  Testament 
is  Tyndale's.'*  Lewis  remarks,  that  the  pro- 
J)hecy  of  Jonas  is  also  Tyndale^s ;  since  his  pro- 
logue is  prefixed,  and  since  it  is  precisely  the 
^me  as  that  in  Coverdale^s  Bible.  This  Bible 
also  obtained  the  royal  license  through  the  in- 
strumentality of  Cranmer,  then  archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  As  this  translation  was  made  by 
several  different  hands,  the  title  of  Matthew 
seems  to  be  fictitious.  The  following  is  a  sp,eci* 

men  of  this  version  :— 

.    .  /• 

And  it  came  to  pass,  V^hen  men  began  to  multiply 
tipon  the  earth,  and  had  begot  them  daughters,  the 
sons  of  God  saw  the  daughters  of  men  that  they 
were  fair,  and  took  unto  them  wives  which  they 
best  liked  among  them  allw  And  the  Lord  said,  My 
spirit  shall  not  alway  strive  with  man  :  for  they  are 
flesh.     Nevertheless^  I  will  giVe  them  yet  sjiace. 

There  were  tyrants  in  the  world  in  those  days  t 
for,  after  that  the  children  of  God  had  gone  in  unto 
the  daughters  of  men,  and  had  begotten  them  chil- 
dren, th^  same  children  were  the  mightiest  of  the 
world,  and  men  of  renown^  And  when  the  Lord 
saw  the  wickedness  of  man  Was  increased  upon  the 
earth,  and  that  all  the  imagination  and  thoughts  of 

Ff2 


436  COVEKIXAtE. 

bb  heart  was  only  evil  continually,  he  repent^  that 
he  had  made  man  upon  £he  earth,  and  sorrowed  is 
his  heart.  And  said,  I  will  destroy  mankind  which  I 
have  made,  from  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  both  man^ 
beast,  worm,  and  fowl  of  the  air :  for  it  repenteth  me 
that  I  have  made  them.— ('Genewi,  chap.  6,} 


From  this  specimen  it  will  be  seen,  how 
comparatively  little  alteration  has  been  made 
in  the  version  now  in  common  use. 

In  the  year  1538,  was  printed  the  New  Tes- 
tament^ in  4to.  in  Latin  and  English, ''  each 
correspondent  to  the  other  after  the  vulgar 
text  commonly  called  St.  Jerome's,  faithfully 
translated  by  Johan  Hollybushe."  This,  how-* 
ever,  is  Coverdaje's  New  Testament,  which  he 
permitted  HoUybuahe  to  print.  The  next  year 
another  edition  of  it  was  printed,  and  dedicated 
to  lord  CromwelU  The  former  edition  is  in 
St.  Paul's  library. 

In  1539,  was  printed— 

Cranmer%  or  The  Great  Bible, 

In  a  large   folio,   with   the  following   title: 
The  Bible  in  English ;  that  is  to  say,  the  con* 


COVERpALE.  437 

ttot  of  all  the  Holy  Scripture,  both  of  the  Old 
and  New  Testament,  truly  translated  after  the 
verity  of  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  texts,  by  the 
diligept  stu^y  of  divers  excellent  learned  men, 
expert  in  the  foresaid  tongues.  In  this  edition, 
Matthew's  Bible  was  revised,  and  various  al- 
terations and  corrections  made.  The  addi- 
tions to  the  Hebrew  and  Greek  originals  in  the 
Latin  Vulgate,  were  translated,  and  inserted 
in  a  smaller  letter  than  the  text.  A  second 
edition  of  this  Bible  was  printed  ei the]*  the 
same,  or  the  next  year,  by  Edward  Whit- 
church ;  and  also  another  by  Richard  Taver- 
lier,  '^  newly  recognised  with  great  diligence, 
after  most  faithful  exemplars." 
'  The  same  year,  1540,  was  printed  another 
edition  of  the  English  Bible  in  folio,  by  Thomas, 
archbishop  of  Canterbury,  with  a  prologue. 
This  is  the  Bible  which  was  then  appointed  to 
the  use  of  the  churches.  In  May  of  the  same 
year  was  issued  a  royal  proclamation,  by  which 
the  curates  and  parishioners  of  every  parish  were 
required,  under  the  penalty  of  40s.  a  month 
,  while  not  in  possession  of  it,  to  provide  them- 
selves with  a  copy  of  the  largest  sisie  of  this 
Bible,  before  All  Saint's  Day  next  ensuing. 
The  price  was  also  set  by  royal  authority,  vjz. 


438  COVERBALE. 

ten    shillings    unbound,  'and  not  exceeding 
twelve  shillings  well  bound  and  clasped. 

In  consonance  with  this  proclamation^  Bon-^ 
ner,  bishop  of  London^  set  up  six  Bibles  in  dif- 
ferent places  of  his  cathedral,  with  an  admo* 
nition  attached  to  the  pillars,  to  the  following 
effect :— "That  whosoever  came  thither  to  read, 
should  prepare  himself  to  be  edified  and  made 
the  better  t|;iereby ;  that  he  should  join  therein 
to  his  readiness  to  obey  the  king*s  injunctions 
made  in  that  behalf ;  that  he  bring  with  him 
discretion,  honest  intent,  charity,  reverence^ 
and  quiet  behaviour^   that  there  should  no 
such  number  meet  together  as  to  ma1ce  a  mul- 
titude;  that  no  expositi6n  be  made  thereupoHj^ 
but  what  is.  declared  in  the  book  itself;  and 
that  it  be  not  read  with  noise  in  time  of  divine 
service,  nor  that  9,ny  disputation  or  contention 
be  used  at  it."    The  priests  or  ministers^  it 
seems,  were  not  yet  required  to  read  it  to  the 
people^  . 

The  same  year,  1340,  another  edition  was 
printed  at  London,  by  Thomas  Petyt  and  Ro- 
bert Redman,  for  Thomas  Bertheletj^  "  printer 
vnto  the  king*s  grace.'*  A  beautiful  copy  of 
this  edition,,  printed  on  vellum,  and.  finely  illu- 
minated, is  in  the  king's  library. 


,  eOVERDALE.  439 

On  the  6th  of  May,  1541^  the  king  issued  a. 
^ecree^  that  the  great  volume  of  the  Bible 
should  be  set  up  in  every  parish  church  in 
England;  by  inrhich  all  the  curates  and  pa* 
rishioners  throughout  the  kingdom^  not  already 
furnished  with  Bibles,  were  commanded  to 
procure  them  before  AJlhallows  next  ensuing, 
and  to  cause  them  to  be  placed  conveniently 
in  their  respective  churches;  and  all  the  bi* 
shops  and  ordinaries  were  striptly  required  to 
take  especial  care  to  see  the  said  coI^mands 
put  in  execution. 

Still  the  execution  of  these  decrees  was  re<« 
tarded  by  the  clergy  with  a  malicious  perverse- 
ness.  It  appears  from  a  small  tract  entitled 
'*  The  Supplication  of  the  Commons/'  that  the 
Bibles  in  the  parish  churcheS;  whicli  should 
have  been  left  free  of  access  to  every  one,  were 
industriously  conveyed  into  the  choir,  or  into 
some  pew,  wl^ere  the  vulgar  presumed  not  tp 
enter ;  that  a  considerable  number  of  churches 
had  no  Bible  at  all ;  that  the  clergy,  not  sa- 
tisfied with  thus  depriving  the  poor  of  spiritual 
food,  did  not  rest  till  they  bad  obtained  an  or* 
der  from  the  king,  that  no  person,  of  whatever 
rank,  should  be  allowed  to  read  the  Scriptures  in 
the  time  of  divine  service;  and  that  afterwards^ 


440  coverdALE'1 

when  a  proclamation  ^as  issued  for  the  burning 
of  certain  translations  of  the  New  Testament ^  they 
were  so  audacious  as  to  burn  the  whole  Bible^ 
because  it  was  translated  by  heretics;  laatly, 
that  they  intreated  his  majesty  to  call  in  the 
Bible  again^  on  the  insidious  plea^  *^  that  it 
was  not  faithfully  translated  in  all  parts/'  pro« 
misingi  that-  themselves  would  superintend  a 
new  translation,  which  was  to  be  published 
again  within  seven  years. 

From  this  representation,  the  king  finally  ap-. 
pointed  two  bishops,  Tonstal,  bishop  of  Dur** 
ham,  and  Heath,  bishop  of  Rochester,  to  su- 
perintend* the  translation  of  the  Bible;  who  de- 
clared, ^^  they  had  done  his  highness's  com- 
thandment  therein,'*  and  actually  set  their 
namelSt  to  it,  though  they  afterwards  denied 
they  had'  any  concern  in  it,  and  caused  the 
printer  to  erase  their  names ;  reporting  to  the 
world,  that  Thomas  Cromwell,  late  earl  of  Es- 
9CX,  '^  was  the  chief  doer,  or  the  principal  ac- 
tor in  authorising  the  English  Bible,  and  not 
the  king,  but  as  led  by  him ;"  and  thereforej^ 
that  the  Bible  '^  was  of  a  traitor's  setting  forth, 
and  not  of  the  king's." 

The  king  being  resolved  that  the  Scriptures 
«honM    continue    to   be  read  in  the  vulgar 


COVERDALE. 


441 


tongue,  the  clergy  durst  not  oppose  his  will 
directly ;  but  by  a  subtlety  of  proceeding  truly 
tjatholic,  they  succeeded  in  undermining  his 
resolution.  The  translation  of  Tyndale  and 
Coverdale,  was  charged  by  them  with  number- 
less errors,  both  philological  as  well  as  here- 
tical; they  represented  to^  his  majesty^  that 
the  permission  of  the  free  and  general  use  of 
the  Scripture^,  served  only  to  excite  contro- 
versy, and  augment  faction ;  that  as  a  proof 
lof  this,  the  people,  instead  of  being  edified  by 
what  they  read,  did  nothing  but  dispute  in  ta- 
verns and  alehouses,  branding  one  another  re- 
ciprocally with  the  names  of  papist  and  here- 
tic ;  that  others  read  so  loud  in  tlie  churches, 
as  to  disturb  the  congregation ;  and  that  thua 
the  peace  of  his  kingdom  was  destroyed  by  the 
continuance  of  this  new  privilege,  / 

A  revision  of  the  translation  of  the  New 
estament,  was  now  projected  by  the  arch- 
bishop,  in  convocation,  and  a  particular  por- 
tion assigned  to  a  certain  number  of  bishops 
respectively;  but  this  revision. was  never  ac- 
complished, nor  designed  to  be  accomplished. 
The  clergy  wanted  only  to  gain  timd,  that  they 
might  be  able  to  supersede  all  translations,  and 
reduce  the  people  to  their  former  state  of  dark*. 


442  COVEBDALE. 

ness  and  degradation.  Tbej  amused  themselves 
therefore  with  idle  disputes  about  the  proprie- 
ty of  translating  certain  Latin  words — such  as 
ecclesia,  inysterium,  Sfc.  of  which  Gardiner  pro- 
duced a  catalogue  of  99,  which  he  seemed  to 
think  too  sacred  for  prophane  understandings. 
Thus  a  translation^  conducted  according  to 
this  method  of  excli^sion,  would  have  beea 
useless  when  made.  This  ide^  was  suggested 
to  the  king  by  Cranmer,  who  was  permitted  to 
communicate  to  the  convocation,  his  majesty's 
pleasure,  that  the  proposed  revision  should  be 
declined,  and  the  matter  referred  to  the  two 
univer^ties.  , 

But  notwithstanding  this  prohibition,  in  the 
parliament  which  met  22d  January,  this  year^ 
1543,  the  popish  faction  prevailed,  and  caused 
an  act  to  be  passed,  condemning  TyndaJe's 
translation  as  crafty,  false,  and  untrue,  and 
enacting,  that  "  All  manner  of  books  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testament  in  English,  of  this 
translation,  should  be,  by  authority  of  this  act^ 
clearly  and  utterly  abolished,  extinguished^ 
and  forbidden  to  be  kept  and  used  in  this 
realm,  or  elsewhere,  in  any  of  the  king's  do- 
minions.*'— The  prohibition,  however,  did  not 
f xtend  to  translations  which  were'  not  Tyu-* 


COVERPALE.  445 

dale's,  though  it  was  expressly  enjoined  that 
all  annotations  or  preambles  should  be  obli- 
terated in  all  Bibles,  under  penalty  of  forfeiting 
40s.  for  each  Bible  thus  glossed. 

On  the  passing  of  this  act,  the  following  re- 
mark was  found  made  in  a  spare  leaf  of  aa 
English  abridgment  of  Polydore  Virgil's  book 
*'  Of  the  Invention  of  Arts,"  by  a  poor  shep- 
herd, and  which  he  bought  about  this  time, 
1546  :  "  When  I  kepe  Mr.  Letymer's  shype,  I 
bout  thys  boke,  ^when  the  Testament  was  ob- 
beragatyd,  that  shepeherdys  might  not  rede 
hit ;  1  prey  God  amende  that  blyndnes.  Wryt 
by  Robert  Wyllyams,  keppyng  shepe  upoa 
Seynbury  Hill,  1546." 

The  king,  being  continually  disquieted  by 
complaints  from  the  clergy,  of  the  ill  use  the 
people  made  of  their  privilege  to  read  the 
Scriptures,  issued,  in  the  last  year  of  his  reign, 
a  proclamation,  prohibiting  Coverdale's,  aa 
well  as  Tyndale's  version,  as  likewise  the  use  of 
any  other  than  what  was  allowed  by  parliament. 
This  act  was  repealed  at  the  commencement  of 
the  following  reign. 

It  is  a  common  opinion,  that  the  Old  an4 
New  Testament  were  translated  by  Tyndale 
and  Coverdale ;  and  the  Apocrypha  by  Johti 


/ 


444  ROGERS* 

Rogers.  But  the  Apocrypha  in  Matthew's  Bi- 
ble, as  before  observed,  is  precisely  the  same 
version  as  that  in  Coverdale's  ;  and  Coverdalc 
always  speaks  of  the  translation  as  his  own,  and 
never  gives  the  slightest  intimation  of  his  hav- 
ing had  any  assistant. 


JOHN  ROGERS. 

This  reformer  was  educated  at  Cambridge, 
where  he  took  the  degree  of  bachelor  of  arts 
in  15Q>5.  The  same  year  he  was  chosen  junior 
canon  of  Cardinal's  College,  now  Christ- 
church,  Oxford,  On  his  taking  orders,  he 
was  appointed  chaplain  to  the  English  factory 
at  Antwerp,  where  he  became  acquainted  with 
Tyndale,  by  whom  he  was  convinced  of 
the  errors  of  popery.  After  his  conversion, 
he  married,  and  removed  to  Wittenberg,  in 
Germany)  where  he  became  pastor  of  a'^con- 
gregation,  and,  as  some  affirm,  a  superinten- 
dant..  It  seems,  that  after  Tyndale's  death, 
when  a  new  edition  of  his  Bible  was  projected, 
with  his  prologues  and  notes,  and  which  was  fi- 
nished in  1537,  Rogers  was  applied  to,  to  revise 


/' 


ROG£BS.    .  ^  445 

and  prepare  it  for  the  press ;  aiid  that  in  the 
course  of  this  lahour  he  mad^  some  alterations^ 
For  example;  Psalm  ii,  ver,  1.  Coverdale  ha^ 
it—"  Why  do  the '  heathen  grudge  f '  which 
Rogeifs  has  altered  to — ^^  Why  do  the  heathen 
frown  ?'*  Rogers,  therefore,  having  be^n  th^ 
^ditor  of  Tyndale's  and  Coverdale's  Bible,  has 
given  rise  to  the  opinion  that  he  had  a  share  in 
the  translation.  In  Mary's  reign,  after  several 
hearings,  he  was  condemned  tQ  be  burnt,  by 
the  name  of  Rogers,  alias  Matthews,  for  the 
crime  of  printing  the  Bible  in  question.  Hi% 
npiartyrdom  was  distinguished  by  some  of  thosi^ 
rememberable  circumstances,  which  evinced, 
geniiis  as  well  as  faith.  On  the  morning  whicl^ 
had  been  fixed  for  his  execution,  he  was  warn-r 
ed  to  prepare  for  death,  before  he  rose-  "If  it( 
he  so,  (said  he,)  I  need  not  tie  my  points." 
During  the  whole  of  his  confinement,  Gardi-*, 
ner  would  never  suiFer  him  to  see  his  wife  or 
family.'  When  he  was  fastened  to  the  stake,., 
a  pardon  was  proffered  him,  if  he  would  recant; 
and  she  was  then  permitted  to  come  to  him, 
with  nine  small  children,  and  the  tenth  suck- 
ing at  her  breast.  This  nothing  moved  him. 
He  washed  his  hands  in  thejlamesy  and  so  died 
triuinphantly,  a  blessed  xxvxxt^x,''^  Abel  Red.  1 68, 


. ) 


il46  '       ROGERS. 

I  shall  say  nothing  of  the  numerous  editions 
find  translations  of  the  Scriptures,  from  the 
time  of  Heniy  VIII. ;  but  close  this  account 
by  observing,  that  the  Bible  now  read  in  our 
churches,  was  translated  in  the  reign  of  James 
L  by  an  association  of  learned  men  from  both 
universities,  by  the  express  direction  of  that 

prince*. 

'  I  have  been  thus  copious  in  my  account  of 
the  several  versions  of  the  Scriptures,  not  sim- 
ply to  exhibit  a  picture  of  the  theological  opi- 
nions and  prejudices  of  this  period,  but  because 
those  versions  did  more,  perhaps,  to  fix  the 
language,  than  all  other  books  put  together. 
^  similar  •effect  was  produced  in  Germany  by 
the  German  translations.  They  have  trans* 
mitted  and  perpetuated  many  ancient  words, 
which  probably  would  otherwise  have  become 
obsolete  or  unintelligible.  ,  It  is  justly  remark- 
ed by  Warton,  that  they  contributed  to  en- 
rich our  native  English,  by  importing  and  fa- 
miliarising many  Latin  words ;  particularly  the 
Latin  derivative  substantives,  such  as — -divina- 
tion, perdition,  adoption,  manifestation,  conso- 

*  A  complete  Catalogue  of  Bibles  may  be  seen  in  Mr.  Be- 
Ioe*s  Anecdotes  of  Literature,    recently   published ;    vol.  2, 

p.  312. 


BOCERS.  447 

latloD^  contribution^  administration^  consum- 
mation^ reconciliation^  operation,  communi* 
cation,  retribution,  preparation,  immortality^ 
principality,  &c.  &c.  And  in  other  words>f 
frustrate,  inexcusable,  transfigure,  concupi- 
scence, &c.  &c.  These  words  were  obrioasly 
suggested  by  the  Latin  Vulgate ;  aad  at  the 
time  must  have  been  incomprehensible  by  the 
bulk  of  the  people,  and  even  by  maoy  of  the 
first  classes.  , Hence  it  appears  that  Gardiner 
had  little  cause  for  his  complaint,  that  the 
tranislation  was  top  clear;  and  for. his  pro- 
posal, that  instead  of  always  using  English 
phrases,  many  Latin  terms  should  still  be  re- 
tained, from  the  hypocritical  plea  of  their  ia- 
herent  significance  and  dignity. 

But  there  were  effects  which  resulted  from 
the  translation  of  the  Bible  still  more  impor- 
tant tlian  the  fixing  the  language,  but  to  which 
that  was  necessarily  precursive.  Before  the 
Scriptures  were  in  the  vulgar  tongue,  the  ^- 
norance  of  tlie  lower  classes  was  scarcely  one;, 
remove  above  complete  barbarism.  They  had 
no  w  an  opportunity  of  exercising  their  ow  nj  udg- 
inentft  pn  the  articles  of  theif  religious  creed  ; 
and  their  frequent  disputations  on  the  meaning 
of  different  texts^  their  comments,  and  even 


448  KOG£E». 

therr  quarrels  about  divine  things — all  operated 
%s  powerful  stimulants  to  awaken  their  facul-» 
ties  from  the  deep  slumbet  which  had  oppress-* 
ed  and  degraded  them.  The  humanizing  in-* 
fluence,  too,  of  Chrigtianity,  purified  and  eic^ 
alted  their  affections,  while  its  doctrines  in-** 
structed  them  in  their  duties,  and  its  $anc-4 
tions  urged  to  the  practice  of  them.  It  were 
futile  to  object  that  the  low^r  classes  of  reli- 
gionists, and  eveh  those  of  more  cultivated 
minds,  blended  the  absurdest  superstition^ 
bQth  with  their  theoretical  and  practical  the-^ 
ology.  This  must  necessarily  be  the  case,  till 
the  instruments  of  thought  are  sufficiently 
sJpiarpened  and  polished  by  use,  to  enable  them 
to  separate  the  true  from  the  false.  With  the 
hope  of  eteraal  and  inconceivable  rewards  on 
one  hand,  and  the  prospect  of  unimagined  and 
ever-during  torment  on  the  other— ttenets  ren- 
dered  operative  by  being  brought  home  to  the 
feelings  by  faith — their  effect  was  great  in  pr6-» 
portion  as  their  motives  were  powerful.  Hence, 
among  the  early  reformers,  conscience  was  al- 
most omnipotent :  for,  though  to  avoid  being- 
burnt  alive,  many  of  them  recanted,  yet  the 
horrors  of  remorse,  more  terrible  than  devour- 
ing fire,  caused  many  also  to  relapse  into  their 


HOGEBS. 


449 


fonner  heresies,  and  joyfully  to  embrace  the 
flames  in  which  they  were  consumed.  Tlie 
improvement  of  the  public  morals  was  the  ne- 
cessary consequence  of  -  this  obedience  to 
duty. 


.*• 


v©x.  I. 


-g 


I 


(  '*sa  ) 


LATIMER, 

Bishop  of  Worcester. 

Latimer  gained  perhaps  his  greatest  pub- 
licity under  the  following  reign ;  though  even 
before  the  coofimencement  of  the  present,  he 
had  become  distinguished,  and  had  reached 
his  highest  ecclesiastical  dignity.  He  is  pro- 
perly found,  therefore,  at  the  close  of  this 
reign. 

He  was  bom  at  Thirkesson,  or  Thurcaston, 
in  Leicestershire,  about  the  year  1475.  Being 
an  only  son>  and  of  quick  parts,  his  father,  a 
respectable  yeoman,  resolved  to  make  him  a 
scholar.  His  early  years  were  spent  at  home, 
and  at  the  schools  in  the  neighbourhood.  At 
the  age  of  fourteen,  he  entered  at  Christ's  Col- 
lege, Cambridge ;  and  on  taking  his  degree  of 
master  of  arts,  he  entered  into  priest's  orders* 
This  was  in  the  year  1500,  when  he  began  to 
act  a  conspicuous  part  on  the  theatre  of  the 
world. 


He  was  a  zealous  papist  tiU  the  iige  of  thirty ; 
when,  being  converted  to  Lutheranism  by  BU'* 
n^,  (who  was  also  a  priest,  and  afterwards 
bornt  for  heresy,)  he  began  with  great  eeal  to 
propagate  the  opinions  of  the  tefoifmers.  Hit 
conversion  took  place  in  1505 ;.  and  about 
th]ree  years  after,  he  was  invited,  through  the 
interest  of  JPr.  Butts,  the  king^s  physician,  to 
-court,  which  he  soon  quitted  in  disgust.  He 
obtained,  in  15£9,  the  living  of  Westkinton,  in 

• 

Wiltshire;  and  in  1534,  was  made  chaplain 
to  the  queen,  Anne  Boleyn,  at  her  own  request^ 
occasioned  probably^  by  the  favorable  repr^ 
seatations  of  the  lord  Cromwell  andDn  Butts« 
In  1535,  he  was  promoted  by  the  king  to  the 
bishopric  of  Worcester* 
:  On  the  passing  of  the  act  of  the  six  bloody 
Itrticles,  Latimer's  conscience  recoiled  iat  their 
savage  spirit,  and  he  resigned  his  bishopric 
He  could  not  refrain  sometimes  from  express^ 
ing  the  abhorrence  he  felt ;  for  which  an  accu- 
sation was  finally  laid  against  him,  and  he  was 
committed  prisoner  to  the  Tower,  where  he 
remained  tiU  the  d.eath  of  Henry*  He  was 
now  released,  and  entered  again  on  his  minis- 
terial  function,  but  did  not  resume  his  epis* 
eopal  dignity. 

Gg2 


4d&  .  't ATIHEI^. 

In  1548>!he  was  one  of  the  commissioners 
for  trying  and  condemning  Joan  Bocher; 
lYhicfa  seems  to  verify  the  imputation,  that  our 
£rst  refonners  were  no  sooner  freed  from  per- 
ciiecution,  than  they  became  persecutors. 
.  During^  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.  his  zeal 
was  pre-eminent  among  bis  zealous  cotempo- 
raiiesy  to  spread  the  reformation ;  and  in  con- 
junction with  Cranmer^  was  one  of  the  princi- 
pal instruments  in  effecting  its  establishment. 
JBut  in  the  persecutions  of  Mary,  he  was  sin- 
gled out  aa  one  of  the  most  desired  victims  of 
popish  vengeance.  He  might  have  made  his 
escape,  and  the  opportunity  which  was  given 
Jiim,  seems  to  have  been  designed ;  but  Lati- 
mer had  the  true  spirit  of  a  martyr;  he  re« 
fused,  (and  if  such  an  epithet  were  applicable 
to  a  saint,)  disdained  to  fly.  On  his  reaching 
London,  and  passing  through  Smithfield,  he 
remarked,  that  ^^  Smithfield  had  long  groaned 
for  him."  He  was  burnt  for  heresy  at  Oxford, 
on  the  l6th  of  October,  1555. 

Latimer,  a  staff  in  his  hand,  apair  ofspec«^ 
tacles  hanging  at  his  breast,  and  a  Bible  at  hit 
girdle,  walked  to  his  trial,  and  probably  to  the 
place  of  executioA.  When  chained  to  the 
stake,  he  called  out  to  his  fellow  martyr,  Ridy 


ley^  bishop  of  London,  ^'  Be  of  good  cheer; 
master  Ridley,  and  play  the  man ;  we  shall 
this  day  kindle  such  a  torch  in  England^  as  I 
trust  in  God,  shall  never  be  extinguished.** 
Two  bags  of  gunpowder  were  fastened  under 
Ins  arms,  the  explosion  of  which  iiistantane- 
ously  deprived  him  of  life.    At  this  moment  a 
quantity  of  blood  seemed  to  gush  from  his 
heart,  as  if  all  the  blood  in  his  body  hp4  beeiif 
there  collected.      The  unhappy  Ridley  wa$ 
less  fortunate.    His  extremities  were  consumed, 
to  the  trunk,  before  the  fire  aflfected  his  vitals^ 
and  he  died  in  lingering  anguish.  -  S 

The  writings  of  Latimer  consist  dbiefly  of: 
sermons,  of  which  forty  were  first  published  int 
1570.  These  were  reprinted  in  1572,  and  16S5, 
4to.    Tliere  are  also  some  letters  of  his  still'' 
extant,  in  Foxe's  Acts  and  Monuments ;  the' 
«most  remarkable  and  valuable  of  which  is  the 
famous  one  addressed  to  Henry  VIIL  for  re-' 
storing  the  free  liberty  of  reading*  the  Scrip- 
tures.    It  is  too  long  to  be  inserted  entire, 
particularly  as  it  will  be  proper  to  exhibit  a ' 
specimen  or  twtf  from  his  sermons;  but  I  shall 
give  the  principal  parts,  and  indeed  the  only 
parts  of  much  value.    This  letter  was  written 
on  occasion  of  the  royal  proclamatioji  forbid- 


4M  JLATIKER* 

^ingvthe  use  <>f  the  Bible  iti  English,  with  otheif 
books  on  religious  subjects. 


To  the  mqsi,  mighty  Prmce,  King  qfEngland^  Henry  the 

rPSr^^^Ji  xffT'^^'  ^'^^^>  ^^  pcaccy  from  God  the  Fa-' 
^ter^ffyo^r  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 

The  holy  doctor  St.  Augustine,  in  an  epistle  which 
]t6  \rrote'to  Casalanus,   saith,  that  he  which  for 
feitf  of  anjr' power  hideth, the  truth,  provoketh  die 
wrath  of  God  to  come  upon  him:  for  he  feareth 
men  more  than  God.     And  according  to  the  same, 
the  holy  man  St.  John  Chrysostome  saith,  that  he  i» 
xiot  only  a  traitor  to  the  truth,  which  openly  for 
truth  teac^eth  a  lie,  but  he  also  which  doth  not 
freely  p^oqpunce  and  shew  the  truth  that  he  know* 
e^ht    Theie  seiiteiices,  {most  redoubted  king,)  whea 
I  rea^  now  of  late,  and  marked  them  earnestly  in  the 
inward  parts  of   mine  heart,  they  made  me  sore 
afraid^  troubled^  sind  vested  met  grievously  in  my 
coi^science,  and  at  the  last  drove  me  to  this  strait, 
that  either  I  must  shew  forth  such  things  as  I  have 
refkd  and  learned  in  Scripture,  or  else  be  of  that  sort 
thci>t  provoke  the  wrath  of  God  upon  them,  and  be 
traitors  unto  the  truth  :  the  which  thing  rather  than 
it  should  happen,  I  had  rather  suffer  extreme  pu-» 
nishment. 
J'or  what  other  thing  is  it  to  be  a  traitor  unto  the 


LATIMEE.  455 

truth,  than  to  be  a  traitor  and  a  Judad  unto  Christ, 
"which  is  the  very  truth  and  cause  of  alL  truth :  the 
which  saith,  that  whosoever  denieth  him  here  before 
men,  he  will  deny  him  before  his  Father  in  Heaven; 
The  which  denying  ought  the  more  to  be  feared  and 
dread,  thain  the  loss  of  all  temporal  goods,  honour, 
promotion,  fame,  prison,  slander,  hurts,  banish* 
ments,  and  all  manner  of  torments  and  cruelties^ 
yea,  and  death  itself,  be  it  never  so  shamefast  and 
painful. 

•         •••«« 

They  have  made  it  treason  to  your  noble  grace  to 
have  the  Scripture  in  English.  Here  I  beseech  your 
gratce  to  pariion  me~  awhile,  and  patiently  hear  me 
a  word  or  two :  yea,  though  it  be  so  that  as  con- 
cerning your  high  majesty  and  regal  power,  where* 
unto  Almighty  God  hath  called  your  grace,  there  is 
as  great  difference  between  you  and  me,  as  betweeii 
God  ancf  man.  For  you  be  here  to  me  and  to  all 
your  subjects,  in  God's  stead,  to  defend,  aid,  and  sue* 
cour  us  in  our  right,  and  so  I  should  tremble  and 
quake  to  speak  to  your  grace.  But  again,  as  con- 
ceniing  that,  you  be  a  mortal  man,  in  danger  of  sin, 
having  in  you  the  corrupt  nature  of  Adam,  in  the 
which  all  we  be  both  Conceived  and  born :  so  have 
you  no  less  need  of  the  merits  of  Christ's  passion  for 
your  salvation,  than  I  and  other  of  your  subjects 
have,  which  be  all  members  of  the  mystical  body  of 
Christ*    And  though  you  be  an  higher  member,  yet 


i 


456  LATIMER. 

you  must  not  disdain  the  lesser.  For  as  St.  Paul 
salth,  "  Those  members  that  be  taken  to  be  mpst 
vile,  and  had, in  least  reputation,  be  as  necessary  as 
the  other,  for  the  preservation  and  keeping  of  the 
body.";  This,  most  gracious  king,  when  I  consider- 
ed, and  also  your  favourable  knd  gentle  nature,  I  was 
bold  to  write  this  rude,  homely,  and  simple  letter 
unto  your  grace,  trusting  that  you  will  accept  my 
true  and  faithful  mind  even  as  it  is. 

«  »  »  »  4t  »  « 

Your  grace  may  see  what  means  and  craft  the  spi- 
rituality (as  they  will  be  called)  imagine  to  break  and 
withstand  the  acts  which  were  made  in  your  grace's 
last  parliament  against  their  superfluities.  Where^ 
fore  they  that  thus  da,  your  grace  may  know  them 
not  to  be  trpe  followers  of  Christ.  And  altho'  I 
named  the  spirituality^  to  be  corrupt  with  this  un- 
thrifty ,  ambition ;.  yet  I  mean  not  all  to  be  faulty 
therein,  for  there  be  some  good  of  them.  Neither 
will  I  that  your  grace  should  take  away  the  goods 
due  to  the  church,  but  take  away  all  evil  persons 
from  the  goods,  and  set  better  in  their  stead. 
«   -^     •         «         *         *         • 

"By  their  fruits  you  shall  know  them."  For 
where  you  see  persecution,  there  is  the  gospel,  and 
there  is  the  truth ;  and  they  that  do  persecute,  be  void 
and  without  all  truth  ;  not  caring  for  the  clear  light, 
vhich  (as  our  Saviour,  Jesus  Christ,  saith  in  the 
third  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel,)  '^  is  come  into 


LATIMER.  457 

the  world,  and  which  shall  utter  and  shew  forth 
every  man's  works/'  And  they  whose  works  be 
naught,  dare  not  come  to  this  light,  but  go  about 
to  stop  it  and  hinder  it,  letting  as  much  as  they 
may,  that  the  Holy  Scripture  should  not  be  read 
in  our  mother  tongue,  saying  that  it  would  cause 
heresy  and  insurrection ;  and  so  they  persuade,  at  the 
least  way,  they  would  fain  persuade  your  grace  to 
keep  it  back.  But  here  mark  their  shameless  bold^ 
ness,  which  be  not  ashamed,  contrary  to  Christ's 
doctrine,  to  gather  figs  of  thorns,  and  grapes  of 
bushes,  and  so  call  light  darkness,  and  darkness  light; 
sweet  sour,  and  sour  sweet;  good  evil,  and  evil 
good ;  and*  to  say  that  that  which  teacheth  all  obe- 
dience, should  cause  dissention  and  strife :  but  such 
is  their  belly-wisdom  wherewith  they  judge  and 
measure  every  thing  to  hold  and  keep  still  this  wkk- 
ed  mammon,  the  goods  of  this  world,  'which  is  their 
Xjod ;  and  hath  so  blinded  the  eyes  of  their  hearts, 
that  they  cannot  see  the  clear  light  of  the  sacred 
Scripture,  though  they  babble  never  so  much  of  it. 

But  as  concerning  this  matter,  other  men  have 
shewed  your  grace  their  minds,  how  necessary  it  is 
to  have  the  Scripture  in  Ehglish.  The  which  thing 
also  your  grace  hath  promised  by  your  last  procla- 
mation :  the  which  promise,  I  pray  God  that  your 
gracious  highness  may  shortly  perform,  even  to-^ay, 
before  to*morrow.    Nor  let  the  wickedness  of  these 


4dS  LATIMEE. 

worldly  men  detain  yon  frcmi  your  godly  purpose  and 
promise. 

Seeing  that  the  right  David^  that  is  to  say^  our 
8a?ioar  Christ,  hath  sent  his  servants,  that  is  to  say^ 
his  true  preachers,  and  his  own  word  ^so  to  com- 
fort our  weak  and  sick  souls,  let  not  these  worldly 
men  make  your  grace  helieve  that  they  will  cause 
insurrections  and  heresies,  and  such  mischiefs  as 
they  imagine  of  their  own  mad  hrains,  lest  that  he 
be  avenged  upon  you  and  your  realm,  as  was  David 
upon  the  Ammonites,  and  as  he  hath  ever  been 
avenged  upon  them  which  have  obstinately  with- 
stood and  gain-said  his  word.  But,  peradv^iture, 
tbey  will  lay  this  against  me,  and  say  that  experi- 
ence doth  shew^how  that  such  men  as  call  themselves 
followers  of  the  Gospel,  regard  not  your  grace's^ com- 
mandment, neither  set  by  your  proclamation;  and 
that  was  well  proved  by  th<ese  persons  which  of  late 
were  punished  in  London  for  keeping  such  books  as 
your  grace  had  prohibited  by  proclamation  :  and  so 
Kkc  as  they  regarded  not  this,  so  they  will  not  re- 
gard or  esteem  other  your  grace's  laws,  statutes^ 
or  ordinances.  But  this  is  but  a  crafty  persuasion. 
For  your  grace  knoweth  that  there  is  no  man  living, 
specially  that  loveth  Worldly  promotion,  that  is  so 
fooUsh  to  set  forth,  promote,  or  enhance  his  enemy, 
whereby  he  should  be  let  of  his  wordly  pleasures  and 


LATIMER.  459 

fleshly  desires :  but  rather  he  will  seek  alUthe  ways 
possible  that  he  can,  utterly  to  confound^  destroy, 
and  put  him  out  of  the  way.    And  so  as  concerning 
your  last  proclamation  prohibiting  such  books,  the 
very  true   cause   of  it,   and   chief  counsellors,   (as 
men  say,  and  of  likelihood  it  should  be,)  were  they 
whose  evil  living  and  cloaked  hypocrisy,  these  books 
uttered    and    disclosed.     And   howbeit   that   there 
were  three  or  four  that  would  have  had  the  Scrip- 
ture to  go  forth  in  English;  yet  it  happened  there,  as 
it  is  evermore  seen,  that  the  most  part  overcometh 
the  better ;  and  so  it  might  be  that  these  men  did  not 
take  this  proclamation  as  yours,  but  as  theirs,  set 
forth  in  your  name,  and  they  have  done- many  times 
moy  which  hath  put  this  your  realm  in  great  hin- 
drance and  trouble,  and  brought  it  in  great  penury, 
and  more  would  have  done,  if  God  had^  not  merci- 
fully provided,  to  bring  your  grace  to  knowledge  of 
the  falsehood  of  the  privy  treason,  which  their  head 
and  captain  was]  about ;  and  be  ye  sure,  not  without 
adherents,,  if  the  matter  be  duly  searched.     For  what 
marvel  is  it,  that  they  being  so  nigh  of  your  counse?, 
and  so  familiar  with  your  lords,  should  provoke  both 
your  grace  and  them  to  prohibit  these  books,  which 
before,  by  their  own  authority,  have  forbidden  the 
New  Testament,  under  pain  of  everlasting  damna- 
tion :  for-  such  is  their  matmer,  to  send  a  thousand 
jaaei^  to  bell,  ere  they  send  one  to  God;  and  yet  the 


460  LATIMER* 

New  Testament  (and  so  I  think  by  the  other,)  wqs 
meekly  offered  to  every  man  that  would  and  could, 
to  amend  it  if  there  were  any  fault. 

Moreover,  I  will  ask  them  the  causes  of  all  insur- 
rections which  have  been  in  this  realm  heretofore  f 
And  whence  is  it  that  there  be  so  many  extortioners^ 
bribers,  murderers,  and  thieves,  which  daily  do  not 
break  only  your  grace's  laws,  ordinances,  and  sta- 
tutes, but  also  the  laws  and  commandments  of  Al- 

ft 

mighty  God  ?  I  think  they  will  not  say  theste  books, 
but  rather  their  pardons,  which  causeth  many  a  man 
to  sin  in  trust  of  them.  For  as  for  those  malefac- 
tors which  I  now  rehearsed,  you  shall  not  find  one 
amongst  a  hundred,  but  that  he  will  cry  out  of  both 
of  these  books,  and  also  of  them  that  have  them,  yea, 
and  will  be  glad  to  spend  the  goods  which  he  hath 
wrongfully  gotten,  upon  faggots,  to  burn  both  the 
books  and  them  that  have  them. 

And  as  touching  these  men  that  were  lately  pu- 
Rished  for  these  books,  there  is  no  man,  I  hear  say, 
that  can  lay  any  word  or  deed  against  them  that 
should  sound  to  the  breaking  of  any  of  your  grace's 
laws,  this  only  except,  if  it  be  yours,  and  not  rather 
theirs.  And  be  it  so  that  there  be  some  that  have 
these  books,  that  be  evil,  unruly,  and  self-willed 
persons,  not  regarding  God's  laws,  jior  man's  ;  yet 
these  books  be  not  the  cause  thereof,  no  more  than 
was  the  bodily  presence  of  Christ  and  his.  words,  tire 


LATIMER.  461 

cause  that  Judas  fell,  but  their  own  froward  mind 
and  carnal  wit,  which  should  be  amended  by  the  vifr 
tuous  example  of  living  of  their  curates,  and  by  the 
true  exposition  of  the  Scripture.  If  the  lay  people 
bed  such  curates  that  would  thus,  do  their  office,  nei- 
ther thes^  books,  nor  the  devil  himself  could  hurt 
them,  nor  mak«  them  go  out  of  frame;  so  that  the 
lack  of  good  curates  is  the  destruction  and  cause  of 
all  mischief.  Neither  do  I  write  these  things  be- 
cause that  I  will  either  excuse  these  men  lately  pu- 
nished, or  to  affirm  all  to  be  true  written  in  their 
books,  which  I  have  not  all  read ;  but  to  shew  that 
there  cannot  such  inconvenience  foUow  of  them,  and 
specially  of  the  Scripture,  as  they  would  make  them 
believe  should  follow. 

*        «         •         ♦        «         •        » 

Take  heed  whose  counsels  your  grace  doth  follow 
in  this .  matter :  for  there  be  some  that  for  fear  of 
losing  of  their  worldly  worship  and  honour,  will  not 
leave  off  their  opinion,  which  rashly,  and  that  to 
please  men  withal,  by  whom  they  had  great  pTomo** 
tion,  they  took  upon  them  to  defend  by  writing.  .  So 
that  now  they  think  that  all  their  feUcity  which 
they  put  in  this  life,  should  be  marred,  and  their  wis- 
dom not  so  greatly  regarded,  if  that  which  they  have 
so  slanderously  oppressed  should  be  now  put  forth 
and  allowed. 


46s  LATIMER. 

i  pray  to  God  that  your  grace——  may  be  fotifid 
a  faithful  minister  of  his  gifts,  and  not  a  defender  d 
his  faith^  for  he  will  not  have  it  defended  by  man,  or 
man's  power,  but  by  his  word  only,  by  the  which  he 
hath  evermore  defended  it,  and  that  by  a  way  ikr 
above  man's  power  or  reason,  as^ll  the  stories  of 
the  Bible  make  mention.  ' 

Wherefore,  gracious  king,  remember  yourself,  have  ^ 
pity  upon  your  soul,  and  think  that  the  day  is  even 
at  hand,  when  you  shall  give  accounts  of  your  office, 
and  of  the  blood  that  hath  been  shed  with  your 
sword.  In  the  which  day,  that  your  grace  may 
stand  stedfastly,  and  not  be  ashamed,  but  be  clear 
and  ready  in  your  reckoiiing,  and  to  have  (as  they 
say,)  your  quietus  esty  sealed  with  the  blood  of  our 
Saviour  Christ,  which  only  serveth  at  that  day^,  is 
my  daily  prayer  to  Him  that  suffered  death  for  our 
l^ins,  which  also  prayeth  to  his  Father  for  grace  for 
tis  continually.  To  whom  be  all  honour  and  praise 
for  ever.  Amen.  The  Spirit  of  God  preserve  your 
^race.  ' 

AnnoDomiru,  1550,  1  die  Decembris^ 

■  '  '  \ 

'  This  admirable  letter,  from  the  intrigues,  of 
the  popish  faction,  failed  (as  is  well  known) 
to  produce  the  desired  effect;  but  Henry,  in 
spite  of  his  vices,  had  a  disposition  too  inge- 
nuous not  to  be  affected  with  the  simple  and 


JLATIMEa.  4S3 


impressive  maioiner  of  Latimer-— with  hi^  sin*  • 
cerity  and  honest  zeal. 


His  sermon?  are  many  of  them  very  carious 
compositions,  and  a  few  extracts  from  them 
can  scarcely  fail  to  amuse,  if  not  to  instruct 
every  description  of  readers.  The  following 
passage  is  remarkable,  as  it  relates  to  his  ^f- 
sonal  history,  and  exhibits  a  correct  picture  of 
the  ancient  yeomanry: 

My  father  was  a  yeoman,  and  had  no  lands  of  his 
own,  only  he  had  a  farm  of  31.  or  4l.  by  year  at  the 

• 

Uttermost,  and  hereupon  he  tilled  so  much  as  kepi 
half  a  dozen  men.  He  had  walk  for  an  hniidred 
sheep,  and  my  mother  milked  30  kine.  He  was 
able,  and  did  find  the  king  a  harness,  with  himself 
and  his  horse,  while  he  came  to  the  place  that  he 
should  receive  the  king's  wages.  I  can  remembrr 
that  I  buckled  his  harness  when  he  went  to  Black- 
heath  field.  He  kept  me  to  school,  or  else  I  had 
'  not  been  able  to  Ibave  preached  before  the  kind's 
majesty  now.  He  married  my  sisters  with  51.  or  20 
nobles  a-piece,  so  that  he  brought  them  up  in  god^ 
liness  and  fear  of  God.     He  kept  hospit^ity  for  his 


464  LATIMER* 

••poor  neighbours.  And  some  alms  he  gave  to  the 
poor,  and  all  this  did  he  of  the  said  farm.  Wljer^ 
he  that  now  hath  it,  payeth  l61.  by  the  year,  or 
more,  and  is  not  able  to  do  any  thing  for  his  prince, 
for  himself,  nor  for  his  children,  or  give  a  cup   of 

/  drink  to  the  poor. 

In  my  time  my  poor  father  was  as  diligent  to 
teach  me  to  shoot,  as  to  learn  me  any  other  thing, 
vand  so  1  think  other  men  did  their  children :  he 
taught  me  how  to  draw,  how  to  lay  my  body  in  my 
bow,  and  not  to  draw  with  strength  pf  arms  as  divers 
other  nations  do,  but  with  strength  of  the  body.  I 
had  my  bows  bought  me  according  to  my  age  and 
strength ;  as  1  increased  in  them,  so  my  bows  were 
made  bigger  and  bigger,  for  men  shall  never  shoot 
well;  except  they  be  brought  up  in  it :  it  is  a  worthy 
game,  a  wholesome  kind  of  exercise,  and  much  com* 
mended  in  physic. 


He  then  gives  an  account  of  an  insidiond 
examination  he  underwent  before  the  bishops: 

Iwas  ohce  in  examination  before  five  or  six  bi- 
shops, where  I  had  much  turmoiling  ;  every  week 
thrice  I  came  to  examination,  and  many  snares  and 
traps  were'iaid  to  get  something.  Now  God  know«tli^ 


LATIM£ft#  465 

I  was  ignorant  of  the  law,  but  that  God  gave  me 
answer  and  wisdom  what  Ishould  speak.  It  was 
God  indeed,  for  else  I  had  never  escaped  them.  At 
the  last  I  was  brought  forth  to  be  examined,  into  a 
chamber  hanged  with  arras,  where  1  was  wont  to  be 
examined,  but  now  at  this  time  the  chamber  was 
somewhat  altered.  For  whereas  before  there  was 
wont  ever  to  be  a  fire  in  the  chimney,  now  the  fire 
was  taken  away,  and  an  arras  hanging  hanged  over 
the  chimney,  and  the  table  stood  near  the  chimney's 
end :  so  that  I  stood  between  the  table  and  the 
chimney's  end.  There  was  among  these  bishops 
that  examined  me,  one  with  whom  I  have  been 
very  familiar,  and  took  him  for  my  great  friend)  an 
aged  man,  and  he  sate  next  the  table's  end. 

Then  among  all  other  questions  he  put  forth  one, 
a  very  subtle  and  crafty  one,  And  such  a  one  indeed 
as  I  could  not  think  so  great  danger  in.  And  I 
should  make  answer :  I  pray  you,  master  Latimer, 
saith  he,  speak  out :  I  am  veiy  thick  of  hearing, 
and  here  be  many  that  sit  fai*  off.  I  marvelled  at 
this,  that  I  was  bidden  speak  oi^t,  and  began  to 
misdeehi,  and  gave  an  ear  to  the\ chimney.  And> 
sir,  there  I  heard  a  pen  walking  in  the  chimney  be- 
hind the  cloth.  They  had  appointed  one  there  to 
write  all  my  answers^  for  they  made  sure  work 
that  I  should  not  start  from  themj  ther6  was  no  start- 
ing-from  them* 

VOL.    I.  H   h 


466  IiA*£tM^R«. 

* 

God  wait  my  gdod  Lord,  and  gat«  mt  answer;  I 
tould  neTer  dse  have  escaped  it^  The  question  wa$ 
this :  Master  Latimer,  dd  you  not  think  oh  your 
eonseiettc^,  that  you  have  bfeen  suspected  of  heresy? 
A  subtle  question,  a  Very  subtle  question*  Hiere 
was  ho  holding  oi  peace  would  serve.  To  hold  my 
peacii  had  been  to  grant  myself  faulty.  To  an- 
swer it  was  every  way  full  of  dahgen  But  God, 
Which  alway  had  given  me  answer,  help^  me,  or 
else  I  could  never  have  escaped  it^  and  delivered  me 
f^m  theii*  handsi 


The  ttext  IS  a  vety  amusing  example  of  his 
peculiar  manner. 

W^  be  many  preachers  here  in  England^  and  we 
l^reach  many  long  sermons,  yet  the  peopk  will  not 
repent  aor  convert*  This  was  the  Iruit,  the  effect, 
^  and  the  ^ood^  that  his  (Jonas's)  sermon  did,  that  aU 
the  whole  city  at  his  preaching  conT^rted,  and 
amended  their  evil  loose  living,  and/did  penance  hi 
sackcloth.  And  yet  here  in  this  sermMi  of  Joaas  ia 
Ao  great  curioUsness,  no  great  clerkliness,  no  grei^ 
affectation  of  words,  nor  painted  eloquence :  it  wal» 
none  other  but,  adhm  quadragmia  dk$  ef  ^tiieve 
subvertctur:  Yet  forty  days,  Nmeve  wbottithtt.  aa4 
Ninevy  shall  be  destroyed }  it  was  na  mara.    T^i^ 


vfva  no  great  curious  eermon^  but  this  was  a  nipping 
Bemicn^  a  pinching  sermoni  a  biting  sermon ;  it  had 
a  full  bite,  it  was  a  nipping  sermon^  a  rough  sermon^ 
and  a  sharp  biting  sermon.  Do  you  not  here  mar* 
vel  that  these  Ninevites  cast  not  Jonas  in  prison^ 
that  they  did  not  revile  him,  nor  rebuke  him  ?  They 

• 

did  not  revile  him  nor  rebuke  him.  But  God  gave 
them  grace  to  hear  him,  and  to  convert  and  amend 
at  his  preai^hing.  A  strange  matter,  so  noble  a  city, 
to  give  place  to  one  man^s  sermon.  vNow,  England 
cannot  abide  this  g€ar\  they  cannot  be  contest  to 
hear  God^s  minister,  an^  his  threatening  for  their 
sins,  though  the  sermon  be  never  so  good,  though 
it  be  never  so  true.  It  is  a  naughty  £ellow,  a  sedi- 
tious fellow  ;  he  maketh  trouble  and  rebellion  in  the 
i«alm,  he  labketh  discretion.  *«#*•* 
Here  is  now  an  argument  to  prove  the  matter 
against  the  preachers.  Here  was  preaching  against 
covetousness  all  the  last  year  in  Lent,  and  the  next 
summer  followed  rebellion :  Ergo  preaching  against 
covetousness  was  the  cause  of  the  rebellion — a 
goodly  argum«it.     Here  now  I  remember  an  argu- 

^  ment  of  master  Moore's,  which  he  bringeth  in  a 
book  that  he  made  against  Bilney ;  and  here  by  the 

'  way  I  will  tell  you  a  merry  toy.  Master  Moore  was 
once  sent  in  commission  into  Kent,  to  help  to  try 
out  (if  it  might  be)  what  was  the  cause  of  Goodwin 

*  stuff,  matter. 
M  h  2 


468  LATIMER. 

Sands,  and  the  shelf  that  stopped  up  Sandwich  hft- 
ven.    Thither  cometh  master  Moore,  and  calleth  the 
country  afore  him,  such  as  were  thought  to  be  men 
of  experience,  and  men  that  could  of  likelihood  best 
certify  him  of  that  matter  concerning  the  stopping 
of  Sandwich  haven.     Among  others  came  in  before 
him  an  old  man,  with  a  white  head,  and  oxve  that 
was   thought  to  be  little  less  than  a  huhdred  years 
old.     Wh«n  master  Moore  saw   this  aged  man,  he 
thought  it  expedient  to  hear  him  say  his   mind  in 
,  this  matter  (for  being  so  old  a  man,  it  was  likely 
that  he  knew   most  of  any  man  in  that  presence 
and  company).     So  master  Moore  called   this  old 
aged  man  unto  him,  and  said ;  Father,  (said  he,)  tell 
me  if  you  can,  what  is  the  cause  of  this  great  arising 
of  the  sands  and  shelves  here  about  this  haven,  the 
which  stop  it  up,  that  no  ships  can  arrive  here  ?  Ye 
are  the  eldest  man  I  can  espy  in  all  this  company^ 
so  that  if  any  man  can  tell  any  cause  of  it,  ye  of  like« 
lihood  can  say  most  to  it,  or  at  leastwise,  more  than 
any  man  here  assembled.   Yea  forsooth,  good  master, 
(quoth  this  old  man,)  for  I  am  well  nigh  a  hundred 
years  old,   and  no  man  here  in  this  company  any 
thing  near  unto  mine  age.     Well  then,  (quoth  mas- 
ter Moore,)  how  say  you  in  this  matter  ?  What  think 
you  to  be  the  cause  of  these  shelves  and  flats  that 
stop   up  Sandwich  haven?  Forsooth  sir,  (quoth  he^) 
I  am  an  ol4  man ;  I  think  that  Tenterton-steeple 


LATIMER.  469 

is  the  cause  af  Goodwin  Sands.  For  I  am  an  old  man, 
'Sir,  (quoth  he,)  and  I  may  remember  the  building  of 
Tenterton-steeple,  and  I  may  remember  when  there 
was  no  steeple  at  all  there.  And  before  that  Ten- 
terton-steeple wa§  in  building,  there  was  no  manner 
of  speaking  of  any  flats  or  sands  that  stopped  the 
haven  ;  and  therefore  I  think  that  Tenterton-steeple 
is  the  cause  of  the  destroying  and  decay  of  Sandwich 
haven.  And  so  to  my  purpose,  is  prcEiching  of  God's 
word  the  cause  of  rebellion,  as  Tenterton-steeple  was 
cause  that  Sandwich  haven  is  decayed. 


sssss 


In  another  sermon  he  addresses  the  ladies  in 
a  manner  perhaps  not  over-gallant,  and  de- 
claims against  jthe  vices  of  the  age  in 
general. 

As  it  is  a  part  of  your  penance,  ye  women,  to 
travail  in  bearing  your  children :  for  it  is  a  part  of 
your  pefiance  to  be  subject  unto  your  husbands"^ ; 
ye  are  underlings,  and  must  be  obedient.  But  this 
4s  now  made  a  trifle  and  a  small  matter.  And  yet  it 
IS  a  sad  matter ;  a  godly  matter,  a  ghostly  matter, 
and  matter  of  damnation  and  salvation.  And  Paul 
«aith  that  a  woman  ought  to  have  a  power  on  her 
head.  What  is  this  to  have  a  power  on  her  head  ? 
It  is  a  planner  of  speaking  of  the  Scripture ;  and  tQ 


.  \.N. 


470  I«ATIMEI^. 

have  a  power  on  her  head,  is  to  have  ,a  sign  and 
token  of  power,  which  is  by  covering  of  her  head, 
declaring  that  she  hath  a  superior  above  her,  by 
whom  she  ought  to  be  ruled  and  ordered.  For  she 
is  not  immediately  under  God,  but  mediately.  For 
by  this  injunction,  their  husband  is  their  head  under 
God,  and  they  subjects  to  their  husbands.  But 
this  power  that  some  of  them  have,  is  disguised 
gear  and  strange  fashions.  They  must  wear  French 
hoods,,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  what  to  call  it.  And 
when  they  make  them  ready,  and  come  to  the  cover- 
ing of  their  head,  they  will  call  and  say,  give  me  my 
French  hood,  and  give  me  my  bonnet,  or  my  cap,  and 
so  forth.  I  would  wish  that  the  women  would  call 
the  covering  of  their  heads  by  the  terms  of  the 
Scriptures.  As  when  she  would  have  her  cap,  I 
would  she  should  say,  Give  me  my  power.  I  would 
they  would  learn  to  speak,  as  the  Holy  Ghost 
speaketh,  and  call  it  but  such  a  name  as  St.  Paul 
doth.  I  would  they  would,  (as  they  have  much 
preaching)  when  they  put  on  their  cap,  I  would  they 
would  have  this  meditation :  1  am  now  putting  on  my 
power  upon  my  head.  If  they  had  this  thought  in 
their  minds,  they  would  not  make  so  much  prank- 
ing up  of  themselves  as  they  do  now  a-days.  But 
now  here  is  a  vengeance  devil :  we  must  have  one 
power  from  Turkey  of  velvet,  and  gay  it  must"  be— far 
fet,  dear  bought ;  and  when  it  cometh  it  is  a  false 
sign.    I  had  rather  have  a  true  English  sign,  than 


-*>■ 


..♦ut^ 


LATIMER.       ^  471 

It  false  sign  from  Turkey*  It  is  a  falsA  sign  wbeo 
it  coBverteth  not  their  heads  as  it  should  do.  Fo; 
if  they  would  keep  it  under  the  power  as  they  ought 
to  do,  there  should  not  any  such  thussockes  nor 
tufts  he  seen  as  there  be,  nor  such  laying  out  of 
the  hair,  nor  hraiding  to  have  it  open.  I  would  mar* 
vel  of  it,  how  it  should  come  to  be  sq  abused,  and  SQ 
iar  out  of  order,  saving*  that  I  know  by  experience, 
that  many  would  be  ruled  by  their  husbands,  as  they 
ought  to  be.  I  have  been  desired  to  e:thort  some,  and 
with  some  I  could  do  little  in  that  matter.  But 
there  be  now  many  Adama  that  will  not  displeasft  their 
ivives,  but  will  in  this  behalf  let  thenihave  all  their 
own  minds,  and  do  as  them  listeth.  And  soma 
others  again  there  be  now  a-^days  that  will  defend  it» 
and  say  it  may  be  suffered  well  enough,  because  it  ia 
not  expressed  in  Scripture,  nor  spoken  of  by  name* 
Though  we  have  not  express  mention  in  Scripture 
against  such  laying  out  of  the  hair  in  thussockes 
and  tufts,  yet  we  have  in  Scripture  express  mention 
de  tortis  crmibuSf  of  writhen  hair,  that  is  for  the 
nottce^  forced  to  curl.  But  of  these  ikussockes  that 
are  laid  out  now  a^ays,  there  is  no  mention  made 
in  Scriptures,  because  they  were  not  used  in  Scripture 
timcp  They  were  not  yet  come  to  be  so  far  out  of 
order,  as  to  lay  out  such  thussockes  and  tuft$«  But 
I  will  tell  thee,  if  thou  wilt  needs  lay  it  out,  or  if 

^  fir  the  nonce — on  purposs  5  per  force.    This  expression  is 
still  used  in  Norfolk  in  t]9c  same  sense* 


472  LATIMER. 

thou  wilt  needs  shew  thy  hair,  and  have  it  seen, 
go  and  poll  thy  head^^or  round  it,  as  men  do  :  for 
to  what  purpose  is  it  to  pull  it  out  so,  and  to  lay  it 
out  ?  Some  do  it  (say  they)  of  a  simplicity.  Some 
do  it  of  a  pride.  And  some  of  other  causes.  But 
they  do  it  because  they  will  be  quarter-master  with 
their  husbands.  Quarter-master?  Nay,  Lalf-»mas- 
ters  :  yea,  some  of  them  will  be  whole-masters,  and 
rule  the  roast  as  they  list  themselves.  But  these 
defenders  of  it  will  not  have  it  evil,  because  it  is 
not  spoken  of  in  Scripture.  But  there  be  other 
things  as  evil  as  this,  which  are  not  spoken  of  in 
Scripture  expressly,  but  they  are  implied  in  Scripture, 
as  well  as  though  they  were  expressly  spoken  of. 
For  the  prophet  Esay  saith,  Vce  qui  conmrgitis  mane 
ad  tomessandum^  ad  ebrietatem  sectandamy  et  pofanda 
vsque  ad  vcsperum^  ut  vifio  cpstuetis.  Wo  unto  you  that 
rise  early  in  the  morning  and  go  to  drinking  until 
night,  that  ye  might  swim  in  wine. 

This  is  the  Scripture  against  banquetting  and 
drunkenness.  But  now  they  banquet  all  night,  and 
lie  a-bed  in  the  day  time  till  noon,  and  the  Scrip- 
ture  speaketh  nothing  of  that,  But  what  then?  The 
devil  hath  his  purpose  this  way,  as  well  as  the 
other;  he  hath  his  purpose  as  well  by  revelling  and 
keeping  ill  rule  all  night,  as  by  rising,  early  in  the 
morning  and  banquetting  all  day.  So  the  devil  hath 
his  purpose  both  ways.  Ye  noble  men,  ye  gr^at 
Uien,    I    wot   not  what  rule  ye    keep :    for  God'^ 


LATIMER.  473 

Bake  heat  the  complaints  and  suits  of  the  poor. 
Many  complain  against  you,  that  ye  lie  a-bed  till 
eight,  or  nine,  or  ten  of  the  clock.  I  cannot  tell 
what  revel  ye  Have  over  night,  whether  in  banquet- 
ting,  or  dicing,  or  carding,  or  how  it  is.  But  in  the 
morning,  when  the  poor  suitors  come  to  your  houses, 
ye  cannot  be  spoken  withal,  they  are  kept  sometimes 
without  your  gates,  or  if  they  be  let  into  the  hall 
or  some  outer  chamber,  out  cometh  one  or  other, 
Sir,  ye  cannot  speak  with  my  lord  yet,  my  lord  is  . 
asleep,  or  he  hath  business  of  the  king's  all  night, 
&c.  and  thus  poor  suitors  are  driven  oft'  from  day 
to  day,  that  they  cannot  speak  with  you  in  three  or 
four  days,  yea,  a  whole  month — what  shall  I  say  more  ? 
A  whole  year  sometimes  ere  they  can  come  to  your 
speech,  to  be  heard  of  you.  For  God's  love,  look 
better  to  it ;  speak  with  poor  men  when  they  come 
to  your  houses,  and  dispatch  poor  suitors,  as  indeed 
some  noblemen  do,  and  would  Christ  that  all  noble- 
ipen  would  so  do. 


Afterwards,  adverting  to  the  nativity,  he 
says : 

I  warrant  you  there  was  many  a  jolly  damsel  at 
that  time  in  Bethlem^  yet  amongst  them  all  there 
was   not  one  found  that  would  humble  herself  so 


( 


--  474  liATIMER. 

xDuch^  as  once  to  go  see  poor  Mary  in  the  stable^ 
and  to  comfort  her.  No,  no ;  they  were  too  fine  to 
lake  such  pains.  I  warrahtyou  they  had  their  brace* 
lets,  and  verdingals^  and  were  trimmed  with  all  man* 
Ber  of  fine  and  costly  raiment,  like  as  there  be  many 
DOW  a-days  amongst  us,  which  study  nothing  else 
but  how  they  may  devise  fine  raiment,  and  in  the 
mean  season,  they  suffer  poor  Mary  to  lie  in  the 
stable ;  that  is  ^to  say,  the  poor  people  of  God  they 
suffer  to  perish  for  lack  of  necessaries. 

But  what  was  her  swaddling  clothes  wherein  she 
laid  the  King  of  Fleaven  and  Earth }  No  doubt  it 
was  poor  gear;  peradventure  it  was  her  kercher 
which  she  took  from  her  head,  or  such  like  gear  : 
for  I  think  Mary  had  not  much  fine  linen ;  she  was 
not  trimmed  up  as  our  women  be  now  a-days.  I 
think  indeed  Mary  had  never  a  verdingal,  for  she 
used  no  such  superfluities  as  our  fine  damsels  do 
now  a-days  :  for  in  the  old  time  women  were  con- 
tent with  honest  and  simple  garments.  Now  they 
have  found  out  these  roundabouts;  they  were  not  in- 
vented then ;  the  devil  was  not  so  cunning  tc^make 
such  gear;  he  found  it  out  afterward.  Therefore 
Mary  had  it  not.  I  will  say  this,  and  yet  not  judge 
other  folks'  hearts,  but  only  speak  after  daily  ap- 
pearance and  experience :  no  doubt  it  is  nothing  but  a 
token  of  pride  to  wear  such  verdingals,  and  there- 
tore  I   thipk  that  ever^  godly  woman*  should  set 


IiATlMEH.  475 

tbem  aside.  It  was  not  for  nought  that  St  Paul  " 
advertised  all  women  to  give  a  good  example  of  sad- 
ness;  soberness,  and  godliness,  in  setthig  aside  all 
wantonness  and  pride.  And  he  speaketh  of  such 
manner  of  pride  as  was  used  in  his  time :  turn  tortii 
crinibusy  not  with  laying  out  the  hair  artificially; 
nan  plicatura  capiUorum^  not  with  laying  out  the  tus- 
sockes.  I  doubt  not  but  if  verdingals  had  been 
used  at  that. time,  St.  Paul  would  have  spoken  against 
them  too,  like  as  he  spake  against  other  things 
which  women  used  at  that  time,  to  shew  their  wan* 
tonness  and  foolishness.  Therefore,  as  I  said  before, 
seeing  that  God  abhorreth  all  pride  (and  verdingals 
are  nothing  else  but  an  instrument  of  pride)  I  would 
wish  that  women  would  follow  the  counsel  of  St.  Paul, 
and  set  aside  such  gorgeous  apparel,  and  rather 
study  to  please  God,  than  to  set  their  mind  upon 

pride  :  or  else,  when  they  will  not  follow  the  counsel 

• 

of  St.  Paul,  let  them  scrape  out  those  words  where- 
with he  forbiddeth  them  their  proudness,  otherwise 
the  words  of  St.  Paul  will  condemn  them  at  the' 
last  day.  I  say  no  more ;  wise  folks  will  do  wisely. 
The  words  of  St.  Paul  are  not  written  for  nothing : 
if  they  will  do  after  his  mind,  they  must  set  aside 
their  foolish  verdingals :  but  if-  they  will  go  for- 
ward in  their  •  foolishness  and  pride,  the  reward  which 
they  shall  have  stt  the  end,  shall  not  be  taken  from 
them. 


T" 


^' 


J 


476  LATIMER. 

By  this  plain,  familiar,  often  coarse  style  of 
preaching,  Latimer  produced  a  wonderful 
effect  upon  his  hearers.  On  one  or  two  oc- 
casions he  preached  with  applause,  even  be- 
fore Henry  VUL  himself,  at  Windsor.  In 
his  time  there  were  no  sermons,  except  in  the 
principal  churches,  and  upon  some  parti- 
cular fasts  and  festivals.  In  the  reign  of  Ed- 
ward VI.  he  preached  often  at  court ;  and 
his  sermons,  both  from  the  novelty  of  the 
thing,  and  the  reputation  of  the  preacher, 
drew  crowds  pf  j^U  descriptions  to  he^r  him. 
We  are  informed  by  Heylin,  that  the  multir 
tude  was  so  great,  as  to  occi^sipn  the  removsJ 
of  the  pulpit  from  the  Royal  Chapel  to  the 
Privy  Garden. 

Cranraer  conspired  with  his  brother  martyr, 
Ljitimer,  to  introduce  a  more  rational  and  plain 
manner  of  preaching*.  The  sermons  of  both, 
particularly  those  of  Latimer,  were  emi- 
nently popular ;  and  insisted  much  on  moral 

♦  As  I  have  given  such  copious  extracts  from  the  Works  of 
Latimer,  I  shall  be  excused  for  passing  over  those  of  Cranmer^ 
thou'^h  they  are  very  numerous,  and  abound  in  theological 
learning.  His  library  contained  a  verynobie  collection  of  books; 
and  Roger  Ascham  has  often  said,  <*  I  meet  with  authors  hers^ 
which  the  two  universities  cannot  furnish.^* 


LATIMER.  477 

topics,  and  the  duties  of  philanthropy.  This 
method  was  wholly  different  from  the  custo- 
mary preaching  of  those  times,  which  con- 
sisted for  the  most  part,  in  telling  legendary 
tales  of  saints  and  martyrs,  always  incredible, 
and  commonly  ridiculous  and  contemptible; 
and  in  giving  reports  of  miracles  wrought 
for  the  confirmation  of  transubstantiation,  and 
o^her  superstitious  doctrines  of  the  Catholic 
church.  We  are  indebted  to  Latimer  and 
Cranmer,  therefore,  in  addition  to  their  laud- 
able struggles  against  the  tyranny  of  the 
Popish  hierarchy,  for  contributing  to  restore 
the  dominion  of  common  sense. 


END   OF  VOL.  I. 


fF.  Pople,  PrintCTf 
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W  O.  R  K  S  .  r 


a  • 


frintti  for  Tjongman,  Hursty  Recs,  and  Orme, 

l^atctnoster  Roxv, 


1.  SPECIMENS    of   the  LATER    ENGLISH 
POETS,  with  Preliminary  Notices. 

By  ROBERT  SOUTHEY. 
In  3  Vols!  Crown  8vo.     Price  11.  Us.  6d.  in  Boards. 


2.  SPECIMENS  '  of  the  EARLY  ENGLISH 
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of  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  the  English  Poetry  and 
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By  GEORGE  ELLIS,  Esq. 
^he  Third  Edition,  corrected,  in  3  Vols.  Crown  8vov 
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3;  SPECLMENS  of  EARLY  ENGLISH  ME- 
TRICAL ROMANCES,  Chiefly  written  during  the 
Early  Part  of  the  Fourteenth  Century.  ^  To  which 
is  prefixed  an  Historical  Introduction,  intended  to 
illustrate  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  Romantic  Com- 
position in  France  and  England. 

By  GEORGE  ELLIS,  Esq. 
In  3  Vols.  Crown  8vo.    Price  ll.  7s.  in  Boards. 


4.  The  POETICAL  WORKS  of  SIR  DAVID 
LYNDSAY,  of  the  Mount ;  Lion  King  at  Arm|^ 
under  James  V.  A  new  Edition,  corrected  and  flS 
larged ;  with  a  Life  of  the  Author ;  Prefatory  Di^» 
sertations ;  and  aP  appropriate  Glossary. 

By  GEORGE  CHALMERS,  F.R.S.  F.S.  A. 
In  3  Vols.  Crown  8vo.     Price  ll.  I65.  in  Boards^ 


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